Dark Birthright
by chinaglaze
Summary: Working in the Ministry archives, Julia finds a document she really has no business seeing. When she discovers that the Muggle world is threatened by an ancient and terrifying evil, she seeks Albus Dumbledore's help. He sends her to Twelve Grimmauld Place where she has to persuade the enigmatic, troubled, and very bad-tempered Sirius Black to help save the world.
1. A Muggle in the Ministry

_A canon-compliant story. Rated M to be on the safe side._

_The wizarding world and all the characters you recognise are, of course, the creation and property of J. K Rowling. I appreciate being able to borrow them, unasked, for a little while._

* * *

**Chapter One: A Muggle in the Ministry.**

* * *

There was a little brass sign on Julia's desk which read, _'You don't have to be mad to work here, but it helps.'_ She had given it to her brother when he started work at the Ministry and it was one of the few of his things she kept after his death.

For some years Julia had spent a couple of days a week working in a tiny office at the end of an overlooked corridor in the Department of Muggle Studies. It was so small and insignificant that only a handful of people were aware it was anything more than a cupboard. She no longer noticed how cramped it was; in truth she had come to regard it as something of a sanctuary and the only place where she still felt a little of her brother's presence.

When she had first come to work at the Ministry, her boss, feeling - she thought - slightly embarrassed by the meanness of the space, had made a window for her - a spectacular coastal view. Every day it was different. Sometimes she even fancied she saw a little boat bobbing there among the waves. But its effectiveness was dictated by her mood, and today it was resolutely static, subdued into grey stillness.

At her desk, Julia was anxiously chewing her thumbnail. Laid out on the floor beside her was a large sheet of paper which was covered in notes and diagrams. It was, in fact, not a single sheet, but a patchwork affair made from many smaller sheets taped together. When she ran out of space to work on, she added another piece. It was an exceedingly messy document.

She generally found wizards, with the exception of a few of the oldest and grandest families, to be remarkably unconcerned about their own history, and utterly indifferent to Muggle history. This had often been a source of frustration to her, but at the moment it was a relief. She was reluctant to draw attention to the fact that the tattered book she had been studying for several days was not, in fact, the volume of helpful housekeeping advice it appeared to be.

With great care she wrapped the fragile volume, then folded the untidy document on the floor into a small enough size to fit into her bag. She stowed them both into the backpack she carried everywhere, and decided to pay her boss a visit before going home.

She made her way from the dimly lit and slightly disused area that hid her office, to a brighter, better-maintained corridor, and stepped into the lift. Two men followed her in. The taller of the two lazily waved the doors closed behind them and looked as if he could smell something faintly unpleasant under his elegant nose. The other man slid his arm above Julia's shoulder and rested a hand flat against the wall in front of her. "Ah," he purred behind her, "Arthur Weasley's pet Muggle. Julia, is it not? How delightful!" "I have, from time to time, wondered if what they say about Muggle women is true. Perhaps you can, ahem, enlighten me?"

Julia gritted her teeth. "Eat worms, Yaxley."

"Now don't be like that, Julia," said Otus Yaxley, blowing on to the back of her neck in a manner which she found deeply unpleasant. "You and I, we could have such a lovely time. I daresay I could show you a thing or two with my . . . um . . . wand. They are such very _useful _things. When it comes to, ah, _career advancement, _for example. What do you say?"

Julia impatiently prodded at the button to open the doors. "I have from time to time wondered if it's true what the girls in admin say about the size of your, um. . . _little_ wand. And it's a shame that even wizards can't find a cure for male-pattern baldness." As if by accident she trod on his foot as the door slid aside. In the reflection on the shiny surface, she saw the other man's hand travel involuntarily to his long fair hair as Yaxley spluttered, "Did you hear what the Muggle bitch said to me, Lucius?"

She headed towards the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

.

She lifted her hand to knock on the door and nearly overbalanced as it burst open and her boss dashed out, almost colliding with her.

"Julia!" said Arthur with pleasure and obvious relief. "I'm extremely glad to see you! We have a bit of an emergency, can you come along?"

"Yes, of course, but-"

"No time to lose!_ Accio overalls_!" He waved his wand and deftly summoned a garish orange boiler suit which he handed to her. "We'll take a Ministry van."

Julia had never managed to get used to travelling in one of the Ministry's specially modified Muggle vehicles. She struggled into the voluminous garment while Arthur drove, trying not to look too hard at where he was going, although, when he drove under a skip lorry, she did squeeze her eyes firmly shut and didn't open them again until he pulled abruptly to a stop, nearly jettisoning her from her seat. They had arrived in a quiet street of modest, very ordinary houses.

"This is the one. Number fifteen, Mr Meakin. Sneezing toilet." They walked up the garden path between neat rows of sunny marigolds, and knocked at the door. It was answered by a shocked looking elderly man who was shaking his head in disbelief.

"It's sneezing!" he kept saying. "My bloody toilet keeps sneezing! Am I going mad?"

Julia felt sorry for him. "Not to worry Mr Meakin, nothing we can't handle. Let's take a look, shall we?"

She stepped into the unfortunate man's bathroom, wrinkling her nose. The toilet appeared to be contracting itself ready for another explosion. "Stop it", said Julia firmly, "That's quite enough." The toilet appeared to still immediately. She put her hand out and touched it, feeling the familiar static tingle, and with a faint shift in pressure like an inaudible sigh, the thing somehow relaxed back into its normal state.

Satisfied, Julia washed her hands at the basin, and went into the kitchen where Arthur and Mr Meakin were drinking mugs of tea. The man seemed to have quite forgotten his earlier distress.

"Well, well," he said, "a lady plumber! Whatever next?"

"Oh yes," agreed Julia, sympathetically. "They'll let anyone do a City and Guilds these days, you know. It's all fixed now, anyway. Arthur, would you just pop in and take a look?"

Arthur disappeared into the bathroom and efficiently performed a quick cleaning spell. When he returned, they chatted with Mr Meakin for a few minutes longer, and by the time they left he could no longer recollect what had brought them in the first place.

"These are becoming more and more of a problem," Arthur said as he drove back. "It's getting out of hand. We can't keep up. Thanks for helping out, Julia, it's always much quicker when you do it. I'll drop you off at home, shall I?"

"That'll be great, thanks," she said, extricating herself from the overalls with some difficulty. "Arthur, I need to talk to you about something. Can I come and see you?"

"Of course, my dear, whenever you like. I look forward to it."

Arthur dropped her on a quiet road near the block where she lived alone in a small second floor flat. Emerging from the van into the normal bustle of a London street warmed by the early evening sun, her worries began to recede. Surely she was wrong. How could the world carry on as it did if her fears were correct? How could all those people have no inkling of how fragile their lives were? How vulnerable.

At home, she took the documents from her bag and put them on the kitchen table. She watered the pot plants on her balcony and stood for a while watching children playing in the park below. By the time she had eaten and done some normal domestic chores she felt better and went to bed, stubbornly ignoring the papers that lay silent and accusing in her kitchen.

.

* * *

Her peace of mind was short-lived. The empty spaces of the early morning brought the burden of anxiety back. She knew she could not ignore the problem any longer, so although it was not one of her regular days for working at the Ministry, she headed there next morning and went straight to Arthur's office.

"Julia, my dear," beamed her boss. "Come on in. Thanks again for your help yesterday. Tell me, how are the new mobile fellytones coming on? And the outernet? I'm dying to have a go!"

"Telephones, Arthur," she said laughing. "And internet. And yes, they're growing very popular. I think almost everyone will be using them soon. But I'm really concerned about something, and I'm afraid it's about to become a rather urgent issue. I'm so sorry to bother you. I know you've more than enough problems at the moment with – well, everything that's been going on, but I'm very worried, and I really need your advice."

She thought Arthur still looked a little pale and thinner than usual after an unexplained sickness that had kept him away from the Ministry for several weeks in the New Year. There had been rumours of a snake attack and Death Eaters but Julia did not know if they were true, and she was generally not privy to wizards' gossip. She began to talk.

.

A little while later Arthur's normally affable manner was edged with anxiety. "Julia," he said, "this all seems very worrying, but it is considerably beyond my experience. I want to ask Kingsley to hear what you have to say. Will you wait while I find him?"

.

While Arthur was gone, Julia glanced around his slightly untidy but comfortable office. A photograph on his desk showed a laughing group of several red-headed youths, a skinny girl with bushy hair and big teeth, and a dark lad with untidy hair and glasses. She recognised him; Harry Potter. She could see tents and banners in the background and thought it must have been taken at last year's Quidditch World Cup.

A few minutes later, Arthur returned, looking relieved. "Luckily, Kingsley can spare us a few minutes. He'll be here any moment. Will you have a cup of tea?"

While they sipped their tea and waited, Julia asked about the photograph on his desk.

"Yes, that's Harry,' said Arthur, picking up the picture with a fond smile. "With Hermione Granger and my children at the Quidditch World Cup. It seems a world away now. So much has happened since." He looked sombre.

There was a quick knock at the door and it opened without waiting for a reply.

Julia turned and stood as Auror Shacklebolt entered the room, his peacock-blue robes shimmering gloriously. "Very pleased to meet you, Julia." He shook her hand firmly. Motioning for her to be seated again, he pulled a chair round to face her and sat down himself. Unhurriedly, he smoothed out his sleeve. "Arthur has told me something of your concerns, Julia, but can you explain again for me, please?"

.

A short time later, Kingsley's dark eyes had narrowed with anxiety. He rested his chin thoughtfully on his steepled fingertips.

"I see no reason to doubt your conclusions, Julia. But there is only one person who can really advise you on this, and he is lying low - in a manner of speaking - at the moment. I have no doubt he will want to discuss this with you. I will arrange a meeting. I suspect time is of the essence. Can you be available tomorrow?"

* * *

.


	2. A Meeting with Dumbledore

**Chapter Two: A Meeting with Dumbledore**

* * *

_._

On the afternoon of the next day, Julia found herself tucked away in a shady alcove at the Dog &amp; Ferret, sipping at a half of bitter and waiting to meet Albus Dumbledore.

She knew what he looked like, of course, but was not quite prepared for the dapper character with a crooked nose, piercing blue eyes and the longest beard she had ever seen, who presented himself to her with a flourish, sweeping his fedora into an elegant bow.

"Professor Dumbledore! How do you do?"

"Call me Albus, please. I feel 'Professor' is more suited to my students and ex-students, and of course, rather regrettably perhaps, you are neither."

"Please let me get you a drink," said Julia, promptly, keen to forestall him going to the bar. She had experienced some difficult situations with Arthur on occasions in the past and preferred to avoid drawing unwelcome attention.

.

Dumbledore took a seat and sipped at his beer with appreciation.

Julia was curious. "I expect you know all about me already?"

He looked thoughtful. "Perhaps," he said, "although no-one knows _all _about anyone else. However, I know that you have been working in the Ministry for several years and Arthur speaks very well of you."

"That's nice of him," Julia said, pleased. "The Ministry have been keeping me particularly busy recently, researching the family histories of wizards believed to be Muggle-born. I find it all rather sinister you know, and I'm very conscious of the irony of the Ministry employing a Muggle to do such work. I'm fairly certain they haven't realised" She bit her lip. "Albus, do you know how I came to be aware of the wizarding world and able to move between the two worlds as I do?"

"I have an idea," said Dumbledore. "I remember your brother Benjamin very well. He was a good student and I had great hopes for him. But why don't you tell me your story for yourself?"

"Yes", said Julia. "He was a good student and he grew to be a good man too. There is never a day passes that I don't miss him. After he died I was lost for a while. Our parents were dead and I wasn't close to our other relatives. They did their duty, but weren't really interested. Eventually, I went to university and studied history. Mainly because I didn't know what else to do with myself and it bought me some time. My awareness of the wizarding world gave me something of an insight into the historic interactions between Muggles and wizards, so I had a different approach to most people."

She paused a moment in reflection. "I had met Arthur at Ben's funeral and we kept in touch occasionally. So when he asked me if I would like to come and work in the Department of Muggle Studies for a day or two a week, I jumped at the chance! And we found that I was quite good at sorting out some of the problems that cropped up from time to time with enchanted muggle artefacts, too. I think I have been quite useful at the Ministry over the last ten years or so - and I have been able to do some freelance research work here as well. Genealogy has become very popular among us Muggles, and I have been quite busy."

She stopped and sipped at her drink, thinking. A blue haze of cigarette smoke drifted lazily in the sunlight.

"Julia, pardon me," said Dumbledore, swallowing the last mouthful of his drink. "Sometimes, as they say, walls have ears, and I think our conversation may be better kept private. The weather is clement; shall we take a walk?" He stood and offered her his arm in a courtly manner. Delighted by his old fashioned gallantry, Julia took it. They left the pub and strolled a few hundred yards to a small park with a duck pond where they made themselves comfortable on a bench, enjoying the warm summer breeze. For a little while, they watched the world go by.

"It is such a delicate thing, Julia, is it not?" said Dumbledore.

Julia nodded, knowing what he meant. "It all hangs by a thread doesn't it?" she agreed, "And no-one really knows how tenuous it all is until the thread snaps."

She continued her story. "About ten days ago a small unofficial car park – just an area of rough ground really - at the side of a small block of shops began to collapse. A large section was visibly sinking and cracks began to appear in the wall of the adjacent building. The council made an emergency inspection and observed traces of structures under the ground surface. They had to close the whole area and erect safety barriers and warning signs all around because it was so unstable. It appeared that the ground was sinking into an old cellar. This isn't particularly unusual in the City so it didn't cause a great deal of interest. As a precautionary measure the nearby building was evacuated and the site was secured, pending archaeological investigations. In this case it is probably a good thing that bureaucracy makes this process so slow - as you'll see. But the excavation is now due to start in just under three weeks." She looked at the professor. "Are you following me?"

"I am usually considered to have a fair degree of intelligence," he said, wryly.

Julia laughed. "Sorry," she said. "Of course you are. Well, it's normal to establish what the previous use of these sites was before any excavations begin – in case of potential contamination and so on, you know? So when I was approached to do the research, I thought nothing of it. I began my work as usual but I hit something of a metaphorical brick wall - so to speak - straight away. The place just didn't appear on any maps or in any records before the 1950s, at which time the area was already derelict. I had to go back a very long way; back to 1666 in fact. And that was when I came across a single record of the destruction of St Wergrim's Abbey."

Dumbledore started.

"You've heard of it then?" she asked.

"Oh yes, indeed."

"Well, it rang a bell for me too. At first I couldn't for the life of me recall where I had heard of it before, but it came to me a couple of days later. When I was at university, one of my assignments had been to study the diaries of Samuel Pepys. I had assumed that they had already been transcribed in their entirety, but when I was looking at the originals, I found a number of entries on loose sheets which were unrecorded and didn't appear published anywhere. I transcribed them myself and submitted the work to my tutor. Initially, he was rather excited, but after he went to verify my findings for himself, he seemed to forget all about it, and when I asked, he became rather confused and dismissive. I was a bit hurt to be honest, but I didn't press the point. And when I asked around among the other students who had also been looking at the material, none of them knew what I was talking about. I began to think I had dreamed it so I went back to check, and it was there, right enough. But when I asked someone else to look at it, they seemed oddly unable to see it. Somehow their attention constantly shifted away, and as soon as they stopped looking at it, they forgot about it completely. It was at that point that I realised there must be some sort of charm on it. It was like in Star Wars when Obi-Wan waves his hand in front of the Stormtrooper, and says, '_These aren't the 'droids you're looking for._'"

Albus looked completely bemused.

"Sorry," said Julia, "you won't have the foggiest idea what I mean."

"Not exactly," he said, "but it sounds like a Muggle Misdirection Charm."

"Is that what it is? It was hardly something I could talk to them about, so I let the matter rest and forgot about it. It didn't seem particularly important at the time, just rather strange, and I supposed it didn't matter. I couldn't see who would have placed a charm on that part of the diary though."

"Ah, Pepys himself, I should think."

Julia gaped at him. "Samuel Pepys was a _wizard_?"

"Oh indeed," said Dumbledore. "But sadly notorious for his lack of discretion when it came to his dealings with Muggles. And of course his wife was a Muggle, too."

Julia blinked in surprise. She shook her head to clear it, and carried on. "Pepys had written about a friend of his; a man called Malfais. The entries were short but intriguing. He believed that Malfais was responsible for deliberately causing the Great Fire of London as a way to camouflage his use of Fiendfyre to destroy his family home, Black Court, and the nearby abbey. According to Pepys, Malfais had written an account of his family history which he - Pepys that is - had hidden, because he thought it was dangerous. But I couldn't find any record of Malfais ever having existed. Nor were there any records of the Black family. It seems all trace of the family and of Black Court and St Wergrim's were obliterated by the fire. It was as if they had never existed in the Muggle world at all."

Julia stopped for a moment. Dumbledore watched her, waiting.

"All the work the Ministry has asked me to do recently has meant I've been spending a lot of time in the archives. Mainly I'm digging out old legal documents and family records. But quite by accident about a week ago, I found Malfais' account tucked away with a bunch of old house-elf indentures and household management books. If this business hadn't been fresh in my mind, I probably wouldn't have looked twice at it but – well . . . When I had read Malfais' book I had to do some very hard thinking. It looked like the ramblings of a madman and I hoped it was, but I needed to be sure. That was when I began to research more deeply. I took advantage of the freedom I have been given to look at the Ministry archives and to collate what information I could find into some sort of order. What I found seemed to verify his story."

Albus interrupted. "Julia, I would like to see your notes. Is that possible?"

Julia was embarrassed. "It is, yes," she said. "In fact I have, er, borrowed Malfais' book too. If anyone finds out, I'll probably never work again. They are at my flat. Would you care to join me for dinner?"

"That is most kind of you," he beamed. "I would be delighted."

.

Together, they walked to her little flat. Julia unlocked the door and ushered Dumbledore in, clearing a space on her small table. She laid the papers out on it and Dumbledore carefully leafed through them.

"You'll need some time," she said. "I'll go and make something for us to eat. I hope you find I'm wrong."

Albus sighed. "I'm afraid you are probably right. But yes, a little time to concentrate would be much appreciated."

.

Julia made a pot of tea and then left the professor examining the papers while she boiled some new potatoes and made an omelette and a bowl of salad as quietly as she could.

They ate the simple meal in companionable silence, then Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and looked at her thoughtfully. "Julia, I am afraid that your conclusions are perfectly correct. You have provided me with compelling evidence to prove a theory I have had myself for many years. The question is now, what can we do about it? I rather think that doing nothing has ceased to be an option."

"Um . . . We?" she faltered. "With respect, Albus, I don't think I can be much more help now. I rather thought I had done my bit."

"Unfortunately, Julia, I believe your part in this business has barely begun. Had you considered the consequences if this knowledge got out to - certain parties?"

Julia blanched. "You mean . . . _You-Know-Who_?"

Dumbledore looked sombre. "Yes Julia, I do. What do you think he would make of this?"

She closed her eyes in distress. "It would win his war for him practically overnight, without him lifting a finger."

"Quite so. You are, I feel, the best placed person to undertake this task. In addition to a useful degree of anonymity, you have the great advantage that no-one currently wishes to send you to Azkaban. Are you able to take an extended leave of absence? I would suggest several weeks."

"Er, well, it might be rather difficult," she said, knowing she sounded feeble.

"I am sure Arthur can spare you from the Ministry," said Albus drily. "Are you in the middle of an important project in your Muggle work?" Reluctantly, Julia shook her head. "Do you have a husband? Children? Dependent relatives?" She shook her head again. "Well then," said Albus, beaming. "That is settled! I know where you must begin your search. I believe you will find help there, although I must warn you, it may not be offered readily. I am going to send you to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Have you heard of the Order?"

Julia felt slightly sick. She opened her mouth to speak but no sound emerged. She swallowed hard and tried again.

"You know I have. I thought it didn't exist anymore."

"Do you have a piece of paper?"

"Of course." She tore a page from her notebook and passed it to him. He drew an old fashioned quill from his robe, and apparently without need of ink, he wrote something on the paper, folded it and gave it back to her.

"The address is on this paper. Present yourself there tomorrow evening at dusk and read the whole of what it says. When you have been admitted to the house you should destroy this paper, preferably by burning it. Admittance will be granted to you whenever you require thereafter. I'm sure I need not tell you that absolute secrecy is essential! You will find what you need there, though I have no doubt it will require significant effort on your part, and may not take a form you expect. You will be at liberty to come and go from there as you please, although I would ask that you are discreet. I think it unlikely that you will attract any attention from the Ministry because – well -"

"Because I'm a Muggle, and not worthy of notice?"

"Ah, quite so. I assure you, Julia, that not all wizards are so arrogant or foolish. I will offer a word of advice; do not trust the house elf. He is more cunning than he seems; treat him with extreme circumspection. The other inhabitants of the house, you may entrust with your life if necessary. You may find your initial welcome less than warm, but persevere, Julia, it will repay you in the end! Good luck. I feel sure we will meet again soon."

_A house elf?_ she thought in amazement. _I didn't think anyone had those anymore. What sort of place is he sending me to?_

_._


	3. The House at Grimmauld Place

**Chapter Three: The House at Grimmauld Place**

* * *

.

When Julia reached Grimmauld Place at dusk the following evening, a summer thunderstorm was rumbling in the bilious sky overhead. An unseasonable chill hung in the air and the heavy rain had soaked through her inadequate coat and was dribbling down her neck. Annoyed at herself, she cursed the peculiarly English misplaced optimism, which assumed that one sunny day heralded a heat wave.

Although the poor light meant she struggled to see the house numbers, a tingle at the back of her neck told her she was close. She peered at the number on the door of the nearest house. _Eleven._ And next door to that, number thirteen.

With a sense of inevitability, she pulled Professor Dumbledore's note from her pocket and unfolded it. Looking about to be sure no one was near, she read out what he had written. "_The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place."_

Even though she thought she was prepared, her chest contracted and the breath left her lungs in a rush as the absent number twelve appeared before her, wretched in its decaying splendour.

Shaking off a fanciful sensation that something momentous was about to happen, she climbed the worn steps to the shabby front door, on which hung a tarnished silver door knocker, formed into the twisted shape of a serpent. Should she knock? Her hand hovered over the flat, diamond-shaped head but she found herself repelled by it and reluctant to touch it. An old-fashioned doorbell hung on the wall beside the door but it looked so rotten she dared not ring it. As she dithered, she heard the sound of locks snapping apart. Nervously, she turned the stiff brass knob and pushed the door open, stepping over the sill into the musty entrance hall beyond. The door clicked decisively shut behind her.

Shivering with unease and cold, she put her heavy bag down and stood listening as rainwater dripped from her coat on to the tiled floor. It was so dark, it must have taken a minute for her eyes to adjust properly to the gloom. Several old fashioned gas lights on the wall hissed and sputtered, and by the dim, sickly glow she could see a passage leading off from the far end of the hall.

The walls were hung with an array of grimy paintings and she stepped forward to peer more closely at the nearest one. It was darkened with age and neglect but she could make out the portrait of a handsome, harsh-featured, bearded man wearing a wide-brimmed hat.

In front of her, a once-grand flight of stairs rose majestically into the upper reaches of the house. A hideous row of wizened shrunken heads spotted with mould hung on the peeling wallpaper, and at the bottom of the stairs, dusty black drapes were drawn closed beneath an ornate pelmet.

Julia liked old houses; she even considered herself reasonably well informed when it came to architecture and interiors, but this place felt claustrophobic and oppressive and smelt distinctly damp with an overtone of something organic and slightly muddy.

Taking a deep breath, she heaved her rucksack on to her shoulder and began to climb. The old carpet was worn, and she had taken only a few steps when her foot caught in a hole and tangled with the frayed threads. Unbalanced, she swore and grabbed hold of the banister, twisting her wrist painfully in the process.

A wild cackling noise startled a yelp of alarm from her, and she looked up to see the oddest creature crouching on a step above her. Barely three feet tall, it had huge, watery, bloodshot eyes, wrinkled bat-like ears and an expression of consummate evil. Although she had never seen one before, she knew this was a house elf.

"MUGGLE SCUM!" it shrieked, sibilantly. "My mistress's house does not welcome such as you!"

Completely taken aback, Julia was shocked even more by a ferocious growl, and she saw on the landing behind the elf, a huge black dog. Its lips were drawn back in a snarl and its teeth bared in threat; froth collecting at the corner of its mouth. The dim light reflected like liquid silver in its eyes. The elf cackled again and scampered down the stairs, brushing past her and disappearing away into the dim passage at the end of the hall. With a terrified squeal, Julia stepped backwards into thin air, overbalancing and tumbling down several steps. As she put her hand out to grab the rail, her wrist twisted again. Crying out in surprise and pain, she sank to her knees clutching her injured arm and expecting to be violently mauled.

The closed curtains she had noticed at the bottom of the stairs swept apart with a dry rustle, revealing a large portrait of an angry looking woman, from which a strident voice began to screech abuse.

"MUGGLE FILTH!" it screamed. "DEFILING THIS GREAT AND NOBLE HOUSE!"

The dog began to bark loudly in response, and a number of other portraits in the hall started to twitch and grumble in irritation.

"VILE SLUT! DEPART! REMOVE THY CORRUPTION FROM WITHIN THESE HALLOWED WALLS!"

Fragments of cobwebby plaster and flakes of paint floated down and settled in Julia's hair. A precariously fastened house-elf head fell off the wall and bounced down the stairs, taking a strip of mildewed wallpaper with it. It lay on the step beside her, its bulbous dead eyes fixed on her in a vacant and opaque stare. She recoiled.

"UNCLEAN! WORTHLESS SCUM! LEAVE MY GRANDFATHERS HOUSE!"

"Oh my God," she gasped, "this is absolute bloody chaos." Something made her look up and she found her face barely inches from the slavering jaws of the great, shaggy beast. She moaned and shrank back in fear, expecting to feel its massive jaws close on her throat.

"MISERABLE RESIDUE OF WORTHLESSNESS! RETURN WHENCE YOU CAME!"

Contrary to her expectations, instead of sinking its teeth into her neck, the dog turned away and headed back up the stairs, then stopped a few steps further on and turned to look at her as if waiting.

"This place is bloody Bedlam," she said with certainty, nursing her wrist. "Bloody wizards." She picked her rucksack up again with her uninjured hand.

"DEPART THIS NOBLE HOUSE AT ONCE! WE MUST EXPEL THE MUGGLE CORRUPTION!"

"Am I to follow you, then, dog?" She sighed and as she began to climb towards it, the dog turned and trotted ahead. The portrait was still shouting at the bottom of the stairs. "Does it ever shut up?" Julia asked, exasperated. "Not wanting to be ungrateful or anything, but I'm getting a bloody headache on top of everything else."

At the first floor landing, tall double doors opened off to both sides, but the dog led her on up the next flight of stairs, along a dingy second-floor passage with frayed carpets curling on dusty floorboards, and to a door at the end of a corridor where it stopped. She could still hear distant howling from the ground floor and wondered if it would carry on all night.

The dog sat down, scratched its neck for a moment then gave a sharp bark and looked at her. "This is where I'm to stay then, is it?" Julia asked without enthusiasm. She turned the serpent's-head shaped knob with her good hand and opened the door. The room was dark and as chilly and unwelcoming as the rest of the house. "No electricity, I suppose. Wizards don't need it, right?"

She had expected this and rummaged in her pocket for the torch she had brought. Switching it on, she was pleased to see a candelabra with a number of candles left in it. She lit them with a cigarette lighter, glad she hadn't brought matches for they would surely be as sodden as she was. The light was cheering but the room remained depressingly cold. She turned back to the dog but it had gone.

From somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard a man's voice raised in annoyance and a little while later, to her relief, the shouting ceased. Shivering, she took her wet coat off and draped it over the back of a chair.

With some anxiety, she emptied her rucksack and checked that the documents she had brought with her were safe. They had been packed better than her own things and fortunately, they - unlike her clothes - were still dry. She put them on a dressing table, then took the paper Dumbledore had written the address on and lit it at a candle, letting it burn away until nothing remained but the singed corner she held. Then she looked around the room.

It contained two old-fashioned iron-framed beds. One of them was neatly made; the other was not, but had a couple of threadbare blankets folded on the stained mattress. Gingerly, she turned back the covers of the made bed and inspected the sheets. As far as she could tell, they were clean.

A picture frame hung on the wall enclosing what seemed to be a blank canvas, but when she got close to it, Julia fancied she could hear occasional soft mutterings from inside. She was not much given to hysteria, being of a generally pragmatic nature, and she found real life far stranger than anything she could imagine – especially at the moment, but she was trembling with shock and cold and ready to believe just about anything. _For goodness' sake,_ she thought._ Pull yourself together! _She tried to take the frame off the wall but it was fixed solidly and would not budge. Eventually, she took one of the spare blankets, and draped it over the picture, hooking the corners of the frame into moth-holes to hold it. It made her feel a little better.

It was rather early to go to bed, but Julia had no inclination to go wandering around this bizarre house in the dark, so, leaving one of the candles burning, she shed her wet clothes and climbed into the made-up bed, which sagged into the middle. She pulled the covers tight around herself and envisaged developing double pneumonia and dying alone in this neglected place. How long would it take, she wondered gloomily, for someone to find her desiccated remains? It could be years! Her wrist was throbbing and she could feel it starting to swell. She fervently hoped it wasn't broken but the nagging pain was relentless. She groaned in discomfort and tired frustration and beat her clammy head into the lumpy pillow.

An unexpected scratching at the door was accompanied by a whine from the corridor outside. "Dog?" She got up and opened the door. The animal looked up at her expectantly, as if waiting for an invitation to enter. "Sure," she said, waving him in. "Go ahead. I could use a friend." She climbed back into bed and the huge dog clambered up and flopped beside her, resting his fearsome head on her belly. He sniffed at her sore wrist and licked it. For some reason that seemed to help, and the pain faded to a bearable ache. She buried her good hand in his coat, scratching gently until at last she drifted into a restless slumber.

The dull pain in her wrist, and the strangeness of the house with its odd creaking, faint clanking of pipes and ominous rustlings in the walls kept her half-awake. The dog remained with her for most of the night, his warmth and weight comforting. But in the early hours, he scrambled noiselessly off her bed and slipped away as she dozed.

When she dragged herself out of bed in the morning, she was groggy with tiredness. Her wrist was swollen and stiff, and she had difficulty moving her fingers. A few doors down from her room, she found a dingy bathroom with a dripping cold tap and no hot tap at all. Half-heartedly, she smeared a little toothpaste over her teeth and struggled into her damp clothes. But the task of doing anything with her stringy, tangled mess of hair with only one functional hand was beyond her capabilities, and a grimy mirror above the stained sink confirmed her suspicion that she looked frightful.

She retrieved a packet of teabags from her rucksack and went in search of the kitchen - and more importantly, a kettle.

.


	4. Mad, Bad & Dangerous to Know

.

**Chapter Four: Mad, Bad and Dangerous to know**

* * *

.

Julia's instinct told her that the kitchen in a big town house of this kind would be out at the back, perhaps in a basement, and following that logic, she found it without difficulty. The cavernous room held an immense table with at least a dozen mis-matched chairs around it, walls of shelves stacked with an array of dusty china, and a vast and ancient cooking range.

A tall, rather unkempt man was leaning on it. His demeanour radiated hostility.

"Oh, excuse me," said Julia. "I'm sorry to intrude." She waved a tea bag in the air in anticipation. "I was hoping to make some tea. Maybe a bit of toast?"

The stranger's expression was cold. "Feel free," he said, "just so long as you don't expect me to do it for you."

She was taken aback by such overt rudeness, but mindful of what Dumbledore had told her, she suppressed her inclination to make a sharp retort. She moved to the table to study him. And recognised him. She sat down suddenly, glad to find a chair handy, for her knees had gone weak.

"Oh my goodness. You're Sirius Black!"

"Your observational skills are clearly second to none," he said with heavy sarcasm.

Julia started to laugh with a touch of hysteria. _Albus you crafty devil! _She stopped laughing and pulled herself together. "So you're the psychopathic murderer and criminal mastermind behind the mass break out from Azkaban? You don't look much like one."

"Like what?" he asked. "A mass murderer? Or a criminal mastermind?"

"Well either, I suppose," said Julia. "Not that I'm altogether sure what one does look like, you understand. But I might have expected something a little more impressive and – well – scary, you know."

He breathed in deeply through his nose, leaned towards her and snarled. "Perhaps I'm just misunderstood!"

She drew back in alarm and inched her good hand toward a heavy looking candlestick. Then she collected herself. She was made of sterner stuff than this.

"I don't believe a word of it," she said briskly, "and don't try to bully me." She stood up and went over to him. "I'm Julia by the way. Pleased to meet you." She held out her hand without thinking and winced with pain.

"What's wrong with your hand?" he asked.

"Oh." Julia felt self-conscious. "I thought you might have heard the noise when I arrived last night. I had a little . . . er, local difficulty . . . with the stair carpet. Then your house elf was extremely unpleasant, and the portrait behind the curtains in the hall started to shout. And then I thought your dog was going to eat me, and then I fell down the stairs and that woman in the painting shouted at me even more." She pursed her lips. "Awful things too. That portrait is truly horrible!"

"That's my mother," said Sirius.

Julia was mortified and felt her face grow hot. "Oh Lord," she said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realise." She sat down again in confusion.

Sirius gave a humourless laugh that sounded like a bark. "She was a bitch when she was alive, and death hasn't improved her temperament."

"Oh." Julia felt slightly dizzy and wondered if she was losing her grip on reality.

"Molly Weasley left you a note." He shoved a folded piece of paper across the table. "She made your bed up for you. I don't suppose you noticed."

Julia hadn't, and felt guilty. Looking at the general state of decay and neglect in the few parts of the house she had seen, it was clear that someone had made an effort with her room.

"That was kind of her. I can only imagine what it would have been like if she hadn't."

"Don't be too fussy here," said Sirius. "It won't do you any good. Take it as it is or go; it's all the same to me. I don't want you here."

She sighed, and opened the letter.

_'Dear Julia,'_ it read, '_I'm so sorry I can't be there to meet you and show you round, but Albus says the less anyone knows about whatever it is you're doing, the better. You will find the Muggle plumbing works well enough without magic. Sometimes there is even hot water. I'm afraid you won't get much of a welcome, but try not to mind Sirius too much. His bark is worse than his bite (if you know what I mean). Good luck! Molly. x'_

"_His bark is worse than his bite if you know what I mean,"_ she said aloud. She looked up at Sirius. "What does she mean? _Do_ you bite?"

He scowled. "Only when provoked. But what does she mean by saying the Muggle plumbing is working. You aren't - _are_ you?"

"If you mean, '_You aren't a Muggle, are you?'_ Then yes," she said, "I'm a Muggle. Not a magic bone in my body. But don't underestimate me, Sirius. Really. Don't."

"Oh, this just gets better and better," muttered Sirius bad-temperedly. He sat down at the table beside her. "Give me your hand."

"What?"

"Give me your hand," he insisted, holding his own hand out.

"I'm not sure . . ."

"For crying out loud, you can't leave it like that! I can fix it for you."

Reluctantly, she offered up the limb and he took it in a firm, confident grasp. His long, bony fingers were warm on her bare skin and she was intensely aware of his touch. He flicked his wand, muttering something under his breath. Her wrist grew so hot it was almost uncomfortable, but then just as quickly, the sensation faded and within seconds the ache had almost gone. Impressed, she looked to see the swelling going down before her eyes.

"Well, thank you," she said, smiling at him. "That was very kind."

"No it wasn't," he said. "I don't need an invalid here. In fact it is actually rather inconvenient to have you here at all. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking."

Julia was entirely deflated, her momentary gratitude replaced by annoyance. "Perhaps he thought you'd be glad of the company. But I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were so busy. It must require a great deal of concentration staying in hiding. I'll try not to distract you too much."

"I don't need company. I like being alone," he said.

For a second Julia sensed his isolation and gave an inward shiver. She studied him more closely. He didn't seem to be properly dressed. He was barefoot and his clothes were an odd mixture of dirty wizard's robes of an indeterminate muddy colour, and faded Muggle jeans with holes in the knees. Long hair fell across his forehead in dark unwashed waves streaked with grey. Untidy whiskers sprouted on his chin and hollow cheeks and his eyes were deeply shadowed. He was tall, and looked thin, tired and neglected. She smelled sweat and the sour sweetness of too much drink and too little food.

_Here is a man_, she thought, _on the edge of self-destruction_. She found him fascinating, and it was an uncomfortable feeling.

"I met your dog last night," she said, trying to steer the conversation into neutral territory.

"So I believe. His name is Padfoot. Or Snuffles."

"Snuffles!" exclaimed Julia in disgust. "You can't call such a dignified beast a silly name like Snuffles!"

Sirius looked faintly gratified.

"If you don't mind my saying -"

"You can stop there," said Sirius. "In my experience, when a woman says that, I'll mind it very much. So whatever it is you want to say, don't bother."

Undeterred, she carried on. "Your dog. Padfoot. I like him very much. He is certainly the most intelligent animal I have ever known. But I have to say, he doesn't look very well cared for. He deserves better. In fact," she said looking more closely at Sirius, "you don't look terribly well cared for, yourself. Are you eating properly? And what are you feeding him? I bet you don't give him decent dog food."

"Mainly," said Sirius, "he eats rats."

"Rats!" she exclaimed, disgusted. "My god, that dog slept on my bed last night! And he's been eating _rats?"_ She felt a bit queasy.

"Did he now?" he smirked.

"That means . . . that means there are rats in this house! Bloody hell! Are there many rats in this house?"

"Not anymore," said Sirius. "Padfoot already ate most of them. That's why he's getting thin." He looked morose.

Julia found herself at a loss for words. Which was unusual.

.

* * *

Later, when Sirius had disappeared somewhere into the bowels of the house, Julia investigated the kitchen and musty pantry. As she expected, it yielded little in the way of useful provisions and the antiquated kitchen range looked quite frankly terrifying. It still retained some residual warmth and showed signs of regular use, so clearly she was going to have to get to grips with it one way or another. There was some coal in a scuttle and there must, she supposed, be a coal cellar somewhere, but quite where, she had no idea.

She added firelighters to a comprehensive shopping list, and made her way to the nearest convenience store, glad to be out of the dreary house for a little while. She collected a supply of basic groceries, and after some consideration, added some dog food, a tin opener, and a box of worming tablets to her basket.

Slightly regretting her extravagance, she staggered back to Grimmauld Place.

.

Back in the dilapidated kitchen, she found a dish and opened a tin of dog food into it, crushing in a worming tablet, and mixing it up well. She hoped Padfoot would not notice the addition, although in her experience dogs did seem to have a sixth sense where such things were concerned. She was delighted to find later on though, that the bowl was empty and licked clean. _He must have been hungry_ she thought. _Poor old fellow._

Defeated for the time being by the eccentric and archaic kitchen equipment and her own lack of magic, she gave up on the idea of trying to cook anything. She made some sandwiches, but as both Sirius and Padfoot failed to make an appearance, she covered them with a cloth and left the plate on the table. Then, bored and frustrated, she retired to her bedroom to think and to study once again the documents she had brought with her.

She remembered what Dumbledore had said; that she would find the help she needed here. But really, what had she to choose from? A psychopathic house elf, a self-destructive alcoholic and an underfed dog. She felt thoroughly despondent.

A little while later she heard scratching at her door and was pleased to see Padfoot again. "Did you like your dinner, Sweetie? We'll have you sleek and shiny in no time!" she said, stroking his silky ears. "He's a grumpy sod though, your master, isn't he? Very bad tempered! I don't think he likes me. But maybe he's like that with everyone."

She climbed into bed and scratched Padfoot gently at the back of his head. He grumbled with pleasure and flopped his head on to her belly. "Are you here for the night then?" she asked. "Won't Sirius miss you? He'll be lonely." But Padfoot was unmoved, and Julia drifted off to sleep, comforted by the warm, reassuring heaviness of the dog beside her.

When she woke in the morning, he was gone.

.


	5. The Silencing of Walburga Black

**Chapter Five: The Silencing of Walburga Black**

* * *

.

Next morning, Julia stood in the kitchen eating a bowl of cereal and surveying the monstrous range with something akin to dread. Sirius could have helped her with this, but she had a feeling he was going to make life as difficult and uncomfortable for her as he could, and she had no intention of asking for his assistance. She was perplexed. He was clearly not going to cooperate willingly, but she needed him on her side – _and fully functional too_ \- and she didn't know how to tackle him.

Sirius slid into the kitchen. If anything, he looked even worse than he had the day before.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "Can I get you a cup of tea? You'll have to light the stove, though."

He grunted.

She found a teapot and peered into it doubtfully.

He narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you looking for?"

"Dormice," she said, shortly. He looked pale and queasy. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Ah, yes. A bit under the weather. I'll be fine."

"You don't eat properly," she said firmly. "I'll cook you a meal tonight. I've nothing else to do at the moment, and goodness knows, I need to occupy myself. I hope you don't mind, but I bought some proper dog food for Padfoot. I took the liberty of putting some worming medication in it too. I'm very pleased to see he ate it all! Have you seen him this morning? I think it can have a slightly laxative effect, but he'll be fine."

Sirius made a strangled noise and Julia looked at him in surprise, to see the most appalled expression on his face.

"You really are the most stupid, interfering woman!" he yelled. "Bloody hell! Don't think you've heard the last of this. Merlin's Beard!" A strange expression crossed his face and he dashed out of the room.

"Sirius!" she called after him. _How very odd!_ she thought. _Whatever can have got into him?_ He did seem to be in a hurry.

.

With a caution born of experience, Julia explored the extensive kitchen cupboards for things she thought might be useful. Shoved to the back of an untidy drawer, she found an old photograph.

Caught by surprise, she had to sit down and collect herself. She touched her finger gently to one of the faces that smiled from the picture, and tears she thought had long ago dried up, ran down her cheeks. She was glad she was alone. _Was it war again?_ She was afraid it was. After a little while she turned the picture face down and put it back in the drawer.

.

.

Some time later, Sirius came back into the kitchen.

"I'm going to feed you this evening," she said. "You look as if you need a decent dinner and I think it will be an opportunity for us to become properly acquainted. Perhaps even without trading insults, although of course that is enormous fun."

He looked suspicious. "I don't know that I fancy Muggle food."

"Oh don't be so ridiculous!" said Julia sharply. "I'm not going to poison you! Don't be so churlish. Believe it or not I'm a good cook, and I've eaten enough wizard food to know that you people haven't got the monopoly on fine cuisine. And for someone who lets his dog eat rats, and looks as if he probably eats rats himself, I suggest you don't criticise. And if you don't mind me saying -"

"As it happens, I do," said Sirius.

"– you are starting to smell as if you eat rats, too. I know the plumbing in this house, though admittedly crude and rudimentary, is perfectly functional, so I'll do a deal with you. I'll cook you a meal if you have a bath. And clean your teeth."

Sirius's mouth opened and closed in silent indignation.

"And unless you have been doing a lot of entertaining recently - which I have to say seems a bit unlikely -" Julia continued, getting into her stride, "you are drinking too much. There are thirty-seven empty wine bottles in the scullery."

A vein began to throb dangerously at his temple. "Keep your fucking nose out of my fucking business!"

"Ooh!" She gave an exaggerated shiver of delight. "I love to hear a posh bloke swear. Do it again!"

Speechless with fury, Sirius stormed out, slamming the door behind him, which was unfortunate as it made the handle fall off, altogether ruining the desired effect. Julia could only see the back of his departing head but she thought his ears had gone an angry red colour.

Satisfied for the time being, she went in search of a useable saucepan.

.

It took a while to make sense of the ancient cooking range, but she persevered, and combining common sense and the basic laws of Muggle physics with some distinctly un-magical and smelly firelighters and coal she succeeded in getting a bright, hot fire burning in the grate.

For a couple of hours she chopped and peeled, mixed and kneaded; the familiar domestic tasks allowing her mind to wander. She felt altogether more positive, and as the comforting smell of a hearty stew and baking bread filled the room she began to feel almost cheerful.

.

It seemed that Sirius had taken her aspersions on his personal hygiene to heart, and taken a bath. Julia surmised this, as his hair was damp and he was wearing a fairly clean pair of old jeans. And nothing else. She was mesmerised and could not take her eyes off him. He was too thin, but wiry and muscular. His chest was broad and he looked powerful, but his shoulder blades and collar bone jutted out sharply and each rib was clearly defined. His torso was marked with scars and the complex and mysterious tattoos she knew were a legacy of his time in Azkaban.

Mouth dry, her gaze wandered lower, to where a trail of dark hair drifted down from his navel into the waistband of his jeans. Unconsciously, she licked her lips.

"Do you want to see a bit more?" he leered suggestively, and undid the button of his jeans.

Julia blushed with humiliation. "Don't flatter yourself, Black," she muttered through clenched teeth. "I've seen quite enough for now. Just get dressed, why don't you?"

A wicked grin flashed across his face, so rapidly that if she had blinked in that moment, she would have missed it. With a sinking heart, she realised that he could, if he chose, be a man of quite irresistible charm. Any thoughts she might have had of using her own rather rusty feminine wiles to persuade him to co-operate were immediately redundant. She was out of her depth and at a loss.

.

A little later she was surprised when Sirius, thankfully now dressed - after a fashion - came to sit at the table and observed her at work. Without a word she poured him a cup of tea and passed it over. He took it with a silent nod of acknowledgement. Self-consciously aware of his gaze on her back, she busied herself with her pan.

She put a freshly baked loaf of bread and a packet of butter on the table. But by the time she had ladled the savoury stew into bowls, more than half the loaf had disappeared. They ate in silence, but Julia was in awe of the speed at which Sirius could put it away, and tried not to stare.

After the meal, she washed up, feeling considerable resentment as Sirius watched, looking smug. Had he chosen to do so, she knew he could have waved his wand and had the whole thing done and dusted in a few minutes. But she set her jaw and said nothing, barely allowing herself the satisfaction of depositing a few pots as loudly as possible on the shelf nearest to his irritating smirk.

Spoiling for a full-blooded row with this man, who she barely knew but was already probably the most annoying person she had ever met, she headed back to her room feeling that she had so far achieved precisely nothing. She was determined not to let her temper get in the way of the task in hand. At the bottom of the stairs, she caught her foot in the same hole in the carpet that she had done the evening she arrived, and swore loudly. The black curtains swept apart and a shrill tirade began.

"I SMELL MUGGLE BLOOD IN OUR HOUSE! THE POLLUTION OF THE UNCLEAN! THE BLOOD MEMORY SHALL CLEANSE THE FILTH . . . !"

Sirius appeared at the far end of the hall looking infuriatingly self-satisfied.

"THE BLOOD TRAITOR IN OUR MIDST SHALL PERISH . . . !"

"This is the outside of enough!" fumed Julia. "For crying out loud you revolting old cow, shut the fuck up!" She grabbed the curtains and yanked them closed. The screaming stopped.

Sirius's jaw dropped visibly. "How . . . how the hell did you do that? I've been trying to silence the old bitch for years!"

"Get over yourself Sirius!" she said wearily. "Get over your bloody misplaced sense of aristocratic superiority. I told you not to underestimate me but you can't help yourself can you?" She waved her hand around angrily. "You live in this disgusting, smelly, squalid house - even though with your marvellous superior magic it would take you no time at all to keep it clean. You let your dog eat rats. You fester every day in a stew of your own bile, and you still think you're better than everyone else – better than me. Well you're not better, you're just different. I'm a Muggle, Sirius. A Muggle, not an idiot! Your bloody magic only works on me if I let it!"

"I don't think I'm better than anyone," said Sirius bitterly, and Julia almost regretted her outburst. "Can you all do that?" he asked. "All Muggles, I mean."

"We can all learn how to, yes," said Julia. "More or less anyway. There are exceptions. The thing is, most Muggles don't know it is something they should learn. If I went round telling people they needed to learn to neutralise magic, I'd pretty soon be locked up in the funny farm."

Sirius looked blank. "Funny farm - ?"

"Oh. It's like the Muggle version of St Mungo's."

"So how did you learn?"

Julia let her gaze rest on one of the shrunken house-elf heads. "My brother used to play tricks on me. A lot. Magic tricks. Until I got thoroughly fed up with it and decided I wasn't going to play his game. And that was it really. As soon as I determined I wasn't having it any more, magic effectively stopped working on me. I have to consciously allow it if I want it to. Like getting into the house here, for example, or letting you fix my wrist. I'm not about to let things like _that_ get me." She looked sourly at the shrouded portrait of his mother. "Obviously it doesn't apply to really deep magic. The rules are different."

Sirius nodded in agreement and looked interested. "Your brother was a wizard?"

"Yes, he was and I'd give anything for him to come back and play a trick on me now." Her voice had developed an embarrassing wobble,

"Oh?" Sirius looked curious.

"I won't talk about it," said Julia. She sat down at the bottom of the stairs and leaned back against the carved newel post. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she squinted up at him. "We haven't got off to a very good start, have we?"

Sirius folded his arms and leaned against the wall, his face unreadable.

"I really need to talk to you about why I'm here," she said. "I've got a job to do and I came here because Dumbledore told me I would get the help I needed. I need you to tell me everything you know of your family history. Anything you remember."

He looked grumpy. "It's not something I care to discuss."

"No, I don't suppose you do, and I'm sorry to ask, but I really do need to know. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. It isn't about what either you or I care to do. This thing is bigger than either of us."

"I don't know what 'thing' it is," he grumbled.

"No, I know. I need to explain it to you. I trust you, Sirius. Will you trust me? Please?"

He considered her for a long moment, his grey eyes sharp and perceptive. Finally, he nodded. "Come with me," he said, putting his hand out. Surprised by this voluntary contact, Julia took it and pulled herself up, enjoying the brief touch. The palm of his hand felt unexpectedly hard and callused.

He led her upstairs to the landing and through one of the sets of double doors she had seen on her first night. "Maybe you should start up here."

She found herself in a spacious, once-elegant drawing room. It had a high ceiling with ornate plaster mouldings, and a fabulous but filthy chandelier. Motes of dust disturbed by their entrance twisted in the diffuse evening light that drifted in through large arched windows framed by faded green drapes.

One end of the room was dominated by a huge marble fireplace with a mirrored overmantel. The glass was heavily spotted and it had cracked from top to bottom. Ornate display cases with ornaments, indistinct behind the grimy glass, flanked the fireplace. Antique couches upholstered in frayed and dirty silk, were arranged on an Aubusson carpet so dark with stains the pattern was indistinguishable.

Opposite the fireplace, on the wall at the far end of the room, hung an immense antique tapestry upon which was woven a complex family tree. The light was too dim to see it properly.

"Bloody hell," she breathed, staring. "It's real. It still exists!"

He gave her a quizzical look and flicked his wand, "_Lumos._"

They looked at the tapestry together. Julia was curious about areas which had been burned into holes. "Why have these been burnt out?"

"My mother liked to erase those who failed to meet her exacting standards. She was under the impression that when they were not on here they no longer mattered."

"Where are you on this?"

"That is me," he said poking his finger into a ragged scorched hole in the fabric.

"Careful!" said Julia

"Why?"

"Well . . . it's very old and delicate, and probably valuable."

He snorted, unimpressed.

"Did she do that when you were sent to Azkaban?"

He gave a humourless laugh. "Oh no, she removed me long before. When I left home and went to live with the Potters. She would probably have reinstated me when I was sent to Azkaban if she could."

"Oh no, Sirius! You were just a boy! How could a mother do that?" She felt a wave of compassion and put her hand out to him, but he drew back. "Sorry. What a totally dysfunctional family you had, I must say."

"Dys-what?"

"Oh, never mind."

"So," he said, "are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Yes, I think it's time I did. It's a long story, so if we can call a temporary truce for the duration, it might make life easier for both of us. What do you say?"

He grunted, noncommittally.

"In here, tomorrow morning then?"

He nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow. Yes."

.


	6. When in Doubt, go to The Library

**Chapter Six: A Tale told in Blood/When in Doubt, go to the Library**

* * *

.

Julia dusted off a tray and took two cups of tea and a packet of biscuits to the drawing room. "Can you light a fire in there?" She gestured at the dusty hearth.

Sirius waved his wand impatiently, muttering _"Incendio."_ The cinders in the hearth popped and jumped. Cheerful flames began to flicker up the chimney. "Well," he said. "I'm waiting. Go ahead."

Julia drew a deep breath. "Quite honestly," she said, "it's hard to know where to start."

"I find the beginning is usually a good place."

"But where is the beginning exactly? I don't know. I'm not much of a storyteller myself, but this man was." She indicated the book she held which was a fat notebook, much interrupted with coloured post-it notes. "His name was Charon Malfais and he really could tell a story. He wrote an account of his family history. The snag is he wrote it in runes. This is my translation."

He looked at her with something approaching respect. "You can read runes?"

"I can, yes. A lot of old wizards' legal documents are written in runes so I had to learn."

"I'm impressed! I never mastered them myself."

"That's because you spent more time pissing about at school and getting into trouble than you did working," she said tartly.

"True enough," he grinned. "I'd still like to know how you did it."

"Well," she felt a bit embarrassed. "Truth to tell, I started with one of our writers called Tolkein."

"Ha! Good old Tolkein!"

"You've heard of him?"

"He was one of our most popular history professors. Before my time, of course."

_"What?_ Are you saying _Tolkein_ was a _wizard?" _Julia gaped at him.

"Well, naturally he was," said Sirius, in a patronising tone. "How else would he have known all that stuff about dragons and trolls and the rest?"

"You mean all those stories are true?" Mouth open, she stared at him in disbelief.

"You'll catch a fly in there if you're not careful," he pointed out helpfully.

She snapped her mouth shut. "Right. Well. Anyway. I suppose I need to give you some background." She opened the book. "Some years ago, when I was at university, I translated a number of unrecorded loose pages from Samuel Pepys' diaries. They had been concealed by some sort of charm, but obviously it didn't really work on me so I was able to read them. The contents were very strange, but didn't mean anything to me until recently. It's a long story, are you sitting comfortably?"

Sirius grinned and stretched out lazily on the shabby couch, leaning his head back and baring his neck. Sometimes the way he moved reminded her of Padfoot. She wondered what he would do if she rubbed his belly, and the idea made her tingle.

"The first entry that relates to this was a very short one from September 1665," she said. "Pepys described receiving a letter from a friend of his named Malfais, which worried him so much that he decided to pay him a visit.

_"'Having had today a letter which much worried me I did go to see my friend Malfais; on the way much struck at the streets being near deserted. I found him in a most unfortunate state, his young wife having succumbed to this vile plague.  
By good fortune, he and his small daughter remain in good health, but he being so much distressed through grief I was unable to improve upon his mood, tho' in truth I did try. He tells me Nan will have no proper funeral for she was removed to the pit at Aldwych.  
My own temper being much depressed after my visit ,I repaired for some little while to the King's Head and sought the company of Mrs Knipp, whereupon much pleasure was had. And later, home to Lizzie and to bed.'_

"The next entry was made in January, 1666; about four months later. This time, Pepys was feeling guilty that he hadn't been to see Malfais for some time.

_"'Feeling I had much neglected my friend Malfais these last few months, in the afternoon I did visit and found him in a most unhappy state of mind, dwelling much upon the loss of his wife.  
'Such things he said as did concern me very deep. I scarce know if I should give him credence or no, for though he has been my good friend and a man of honour whom I did trust these many years, yet I now suspect his mind to be much disordered. He raves of ancient plots, of purposely engineered pestilence contained beneath the hallowed walls of St Wergrim's, and of Fiendfyre and murder. And too, it seems his beloved daughter has been taken against his wish into the house of his uncle at Black Court and he is greatly distressed by it, which I do most heartily understand.  
And he said to me, Sam, believe me that my blood be besmirched, foul and hateful. I shall write all this history and of this wicked plan, for secrets such as these must needs be exposed. And I shall see an end to this wickedness as soon as may be, though it mean great destruction.'_

"Are you still with me?" asked Julia.

"I'm a wizard, not an idiot," said Sirius. "Don't underestimate me."

She laughed, and was pleasantly surprised when Sirius did, too. It sounded harsh and rusty, as if it did not happen very often.

"All right then," she said, "I'll carry on. There was another entry written in September of the same year, after the Fire of London had already started.

_'The fire in the city raging,_ _I had recollection of the conversation which I had with my friend Malfais some several months ago. My meeting with the King and the Duke of York at White-Hall being concluded, I besought a fresh horse and proceeded with great haste to his house. On my arrival found him absent but his servant there, who did give me a packet addressed in strongest terms for my sight only! His servant having fulfilled his purpose in conveying the package to me, went thence in some hurry to Black Court.  
Beset much with anxiety for my friend and for the city I repaired home at once, not pausing even to visit with Mrs Knipp.  
Upon opening the parcel, I found within a book; and without delay proceeded to read, though it written in runes and did take me some considerable time in the deciphering. Such things as I did read there much disturbed me and should not be seen by any other, until such time as mayhap it needs to be. Believing my friend beyond my help and fearing its discovery, I made urgently back to the deepest and safest place wherein such objects may be safely stored, making that it should appear to contain not any thing of importance, but the most mundane of household instructions.  
Delaying not, returned home before supper. And meanwhile being kept informed of progress of the fire by my wife and my maid, I much fear for the city.'_

"The final entry Pepys made about it, was a week later, just after the Fire.

_'The body of Malfais found in the midst of such destruction yet without apparent marks upon him, giving rise to much unwelcome rumour, I enlisted the help of other friends to repress such gossip as was beginning. The destruction of the city within the walls being almost complete, nothing remains above ground of Black Court or the abbey of St Wergrim. The family are said to be repaired to an estate some few miles north, at Islington.  
I believe Malfais has carried out his purpose according to his plan, thus we should see no further outbreak of plague within my lifetime or that of my children or grandchildren; and God willing, such things as should be undisturbed remain so till the end of time.'_

"So that brings us to this." She lifted up the fat notebook. "When I was working in the Ministry archives -"

"You work in the Ministry?"

"Don't interrupt, it's rude. When I was working in the Ministry archives I found Malfais' book tucked away under a pile of old house-elf indentures. As soon as I looked at it, I knew what it was. This is my translation. I'm going to read it to you. Pay attention please."

Sirius made a mocking show of deep concentration which Julia ignored.

_"'My name is Charon Malfais, and I was born to a noble family; an ancient one grown great in power, great in wealth; in arrogance; in evil. Forgive me, for I knew no better!  
Rear'd as I was in the belief of entitlement and superiority; descended from the scions of ancient magic; the royal houses of Lyonesse, Hy-Brasil and Hyperborea and from the fierce hunters in the ancient woods, I believed I understood fully the responsibility brought by greatness!  
My father, Scorpius Malfais was from the great family whose house is at ancient Sarum, and my mother Yersinia is daughter of the Most Noble family of them all._

_The many times great grandfather of my mother, whose name was Wulfric Black, travelled with his companion Ahrimanius Slytherin, son of the Noble House of that name, in search of glory and knowledge and power. And when they had visited first the frozen mountains and black stone deserts of magma and ice far to the north, they travelled long months to the east, to the lands of golden rivers, temples and dragons. They found raging there a dreadful plague and pestilence which had near annihilated the populace of that place, for a great many who succumbed to the sickness were dead of it within but a short time._

_But after some while they came to see that though of every ten who caught the sickness, nine would die, yet a small number escaped with but the slightest of maladies. And then also they recognised that it was those of wizard blood for whom the sickness was little more than mild discomfort. And, moreover, the effect was such that their magic had been somewhat increased by it._

_'Being of curious disposition, by dint of much enquiry they came to understand that the contagion survived within a mite which could live upon the blood both of vermin and men, and with this knowledge sought to afflict a number of rats with the disease. And having done this, they placed them upon great trading vessels, and sent them far across the oceans to all the corners of the world._

_'The pestilence travelled thence with merchant traders, with armies and pilgrims, with porcelain, spices and silk. They reached the great cities of Byzantium, the vast plains and steppes of the Mongol lands and thereafter the seaports of Europe and the country of their birth._

_'So they returned to their homeland and in the year of 1352, Wulfric Black built Black Court, a palace suitable to his power and position, and also did endow a nearby abbey wherein were to be interred his own remains and those of his descendants in order that they should not be corrupted even after death by mixing with the non-magic race._

_And he forged new bonds of subjugation for the servant tribes, and he it was who began the weaving of the tapestry which contained therein the lists of fathers and of sons, and deeper therein the key to the way of his great plan. And it was his intention that the pestilence should be released again at intervals, and each time the wizard race should increase in strength and those inferior and without the gift should perish and fall forgotten._

_When the time came for his body to be interred beneath the abbey walls, he had entombed with him something of the source of his power in such a form that should it remain undisturbed, it might be forever hidden and without harm; But should it ever be touched by one not of wizard blood it should once again release the great epidemic. Its safeguards such that its threat can be averted in the end only by one who holds the memory of blood taken from father to son._

_And Ahrimanius Slytherin dedicated his life to the learning and the teaching of magic and his daughter married the first born son of Wulfric Black. And thus began this line of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, memory held in blood through the unbroken male line, my uncle Sirius now at the head and in the Court._

_But my pride was to be crushed, my foolishness revealed. For to the abhorrence of my mother and my uncle I did fall in love with my Annie, my wife! My Nan, so innocent - and not of wizard blood! And I did realise my error, my hubris! For I know that my race is not that of wizards but of all mankind!_

_My sweet Nan! Cold now, nameless in a pit. Dead of the plague broadcast by my own ancestor, and my little daughter taken away into my uncle's house._

_It being clear to me that such deep evil and wicked design should not continue more, I have laid a plan. For though not of the direct line of sons from Wulfric Black, and it not within my power to destroy that cursed object which lies below the ground, yet I will stop this evil for now. Mayhap one day in distant years a son of the sons of Black will renounce the pride of his forbears, and favouring the family of all mankind destroy that living remnant of Wulfric Black for eternity._

_And I say to this son of Black: The key to the way shall be unlocked by the White Goddess and the secret will be held by the childrens' children of my servant. So I say, but ask what is the way to the place of bones and instruction shall be given._

_So my soul shall soon pass through the veil and on the other side I shall see my sweet Nan again.'_

"That's where it ends. There isn't anything else." Julia closed the book.

Sirius looked grey and even more drawn than usual. "Let me get this right. My ancestors deliberately released several lethal plague pandemics to kill Muggles and strengthen our magic powers?" He put his head in his hands. "How many?" he whispered.

"Sorry?"

He lifted his head and looked at her. "How many people died?"

"Please don't ask me that, Sirius."

Now he looked angry. "You know, don't you? _How many?"_

She swallowed uncomfortably. "The first plague that came from the Far East, is said to have killed about half of the population of Europe. Maybe a hundred million."

_"A hundred million people?"_

Hesitantly, she put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I, er -" He cleared his throat. "No, not really."

She took his hand, pulling him up. "Come on," she said. "We need some more tea."

.

* * *

In silence, Sirius sat at the kitchen table opposite her. Always inscrutable, now his eyes were like volcanic glass. He was like flint. Hard, sharp, fragile.

Julia was uneasy. In this mood she felt he was unpredictable, slightly dangerous. She was almost afraid of him.

He pushed his tea away in disgust, and from a cupboard at the side of the range took a dark bottle, uncorked it and poured two glasses of amber liquid. He slid one across the table to Julia and drained his own in one gulp.

She took a little sip and spluttered. "Not for me, thanks."

"Please yourself," he said, and drank hers too.

Julia watched him warily, wondering if he would consume the rest of the bottle at the same speed.

He was thinking about it, she was sure, but he resolutely rammed the cork back and put it behind him out of sight.

"The Muggles knew something nasty was going on," she said. "All those years. They just didn't know quite what. But that was where the rift between Muggles and wizards began. There was a lot of distrust and suspicion and eventually it culminated in terrible persecutions and witch trials. But of course the real wizards were much too clever to be found and kept themselves hidden. Like this." She gestured around her. "After the fire, the Malfais family changed their name to Malfoy. There were rumours about Malfais and the fire, you see. In the wizarding world as well as the Muggle one. They wanted to distance themselves from it."

"How?" he demanded, catching her by surprise. "How am I supposed to deal with this?"

She winced. She hadn't thought through what his reaction might be. "You aren't Wulfric Black, Sirius. He lived seven centuries ago. You are what Malfais wanted. '_The son of the sons of Black who will one day renounce the pride of his forbears._"But I'm afraid there's more."

"Oh Merlin, no!" He groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Julia wanted to put her arms round him and clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms to stop herself doing something so ridiculous. "About a fortnight ago an area of ground started to subside. I have reason to think that it is on the site of St Wergrim's Abbey. Where Wulfric Black is buried with – whatever it is. There is something in the crypt of St Wergrim's that will start another plague if it's disturbed. The _Black Death._ With modern travel there will hardly be a corner of the planet it won't reach in days, and it spreads so fast there will be no time for our scientists to develop a cure or a vaccine. And in two weeks they're going to dig it up."

"Shit." said Sirius flatly.

"Exactly," agreed Julia. "Somehow, we've got to figure out how to find the thing and destroy it before some unsuspecting Muggle archaeologist gets hold of it. That's what Albus sent me here for."

Sirius sat for a long time, very still, staring into the dying embers of the fire. Finally he said, "You need the library."

A wave of irritation tempered Julia's sympathy. "You have a_ library_ in this house? Were you going to bother telling me?"

.

The library was on the first floor, at the back of the house, entered through heavy ornate doors which looked like ebony inlaid with bone. She traced the pattern with a finger. "More snakes."

Sirius looked ill. "They aren't just poisonous serpents you know," he said. "They represent eternity too."

"I knew that," she said, although she had forgotten.

She pushed open the doors which were stiff with disuse. It was not a large room, but high-ceilinged; chilly and musty with a distinct odour of mould.

Julia looked around in dismay, "Bloody hell, where do I start here?"

Bookcases stretched from the floor to the lofty ceiling, accessed by an old fashioned and worm eaten library ladder she viewed with extreme distrust. Much appeared in disarray. Most of it was covered with an undisturbed layer of dust and mildew but a number of items seemed to have been moved more recently and deposited carelessly on floor, chairs and desk.

"Would you like to help me?"

"Me? Certainly not!" He looked horrified.

"Well, thanks for that. I suppose I'd better try and make some sense of it by myself then."

.

Julia began to sift through the debris and started arranging the material into some sort of order. With relief she found that most of the mess was fairly superficial. The majority of the books and documents in the bookcases had long ago been filed in a logical manner which made it possible to eliminate large sections from her research. Everything was filthy with a peculiar sort of black mould and soon she was covered in it. Shreds of cobweb were everywhere; in her hair, her clothes, her mouth and ears.

She had lost track of time when Sirius astonished her by bringing a mug of tea. He sniggered. "You look delightful!"

"What?" She rubbed some of the grime off a mirror hanging on the wall and peered at it. "Bloody hell!" she wailed. "I look like a witch. No offence intended."

"None taken. Hold still." He delicately removed a small spider from her eyebrow and set it free on the desk.

Julia felt as if little electric shocks prickled under her skin where he touched her. "Sirius, where did the Black family live before they moved into this house? There's material here that predates this house by centuries."

"There was another house here," he said. "This row was built in the grounds. My great-great-however-many-times grandfather must have seen an advantage to selling to Muggle developers. Think he liked the camouflage; hiding in plain sight if you like_._ We never moved far away."

"And before that?"

"There's a map somewhere. I remember my father showing me." He investigated one of the shelves. "Ah, this is it I think." He pulled down a large roll of parchment.

Julia cleared the table and unrolled the document, looking at it with increasing astonishment and fascination.

"Sirius, this is incredible - quite astounding! It shows the homes of all the main wizarding families in London in the seventeenth century! So where was the Black residence?"

"Um, about here somewhere." Sirius leaned over her. He was so close she could see the individual hairs of his beard, the pores of his skin, a pattern of small dark tattoos that traced the line of the corded sinew in his neck.

He placed his index finger on the map, indicating a structure just to the north of the River.

She squinted at the faded writing and let out a sigh of recognition. "_Blaec Court! _Of course._"_

"And this is St Wergrim's Abbey here." He put his finger on another point a little way off. "Let me think." He frowned in concentration for a moment. "Yes. Come with me."

He led her up to the next floor and along a dark corridor. This part of the house seemed even more derelict than the rest. Through an open door she glimpsed a disused bathroom. This passageway, like the others was hung with pictures and at the end was a grandfather clock. She liked clocks and went to look at it more closely.

Set into the clock face were two eyes. Idly she pulled the pendulum to one side and let go. It started to tick, and with each tick and swing of the pendulum the eyes flicked disturbingly from one side to the other. She laughed.

"For Merlin's sake Julia!" Sirius exclaimed. "Have you lost your mind? Haven't you learnt anything? You're lucky it's been decommissioned. Until a few months ago it fired bolts at anyone who got too close."

"Ouch. Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"This is what I wanted to show you. Black Court" He was standing in front of a picture as dark and grimy as all the rest. He summoned a light with his wand and she looked at it. It was a formal, rather stylised late medieval painting of an immensely grand house with towers at the corners.

"What about this?" Julia gestured to another smaller frame close to it.

"That's the abbey." Interested, she blew the dust and cobwebs away, looking at the picture, which was a faded charcoal drawing.

"And what about this one?" That was a portrait of a severe-looking woman in a dark, high-waisted robe and wimple. It might have been any one of many medieval portraits, except that where Julia would have expected the figure to be holding a bible, she held a snake in each hand, the tail of each held in the mouth of the other so that they formed an unbroken circle.

"That's Saint Wergrim."

Fascinated, Julia studied it closely. "Saint Wergrim isn't in the lexicon of Muggle saints, I looked her up. What is she supposed to have done?"

"According to legend she could speak to snakes and could also turn into one. In the form of a snake she is said to have passed beyond the Veil and returned with the soul of a child of the family. I'm not surprised Muggles haven't heard of her.

"I don't know," said Julia. "A lot of our saints seem to have fought dragons, talked to animals, controlled the weather, made prophecies and suchlike. I don't suppose we'd have batted an eyelid."

.

* * *

They retired to the kitchen again, where Sirius made a new fire in the stove and Julia brewed a fresh pot of tea and made some sandwiches

Thoughtfully she swallowed a mouthful of cheese and pickle. "I must be getting nearer, Sirius. I've just got to be! But there's so much I don't understand. There is something in the tapestry, I'm sure of it. But I've looked and looked and I can't see anything out of place. Considering it's a deeply weird thing anyway." She sighed. "I'll just have to keep trying. Malfais has given us instructions. He's told us where to look, if we can only work it out."

.


	7. The Meeting of the Order

**Chapter Seven: The Meeting of the Order**

* * *

.

A great _whoosh_! from the marble fireplace in the drawing room made Julia spin round in shock to see a body materialise in a leap of green flame. The man who emerged looked taken aback to see her there, and opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Sirius came into the room.

"Remus!" said Sirius. For the very first time, Julia saw Sirius's face light into a genuine smile. In that moment he looked younger and very attractive.

"Won't you introduce me to your friend, Sirius?" asked Remus.

Sirius seemed disconcerted. "Friend? Oh! This is just Julia. Julia, this is Remus."

She felt hurt but forced a smile. "Oh, Remus Lupin! The worst kept secret in the wizarding world! I'm very pleased to meet you at last." She narrowed her eyes in Sirius's direction. "My _friends_ call me Jules." She liked Remus immediately. He had a pleasingly open face although he appeared rather tired and there was an air of deep sadness to him.

Remus gave a rueful laugh. "I'm glad to meet you too, Jules." He turned to Sirius. "There's a meeting of the Order here tonight. The others will start arriving in an hour or so."

"Come on, Remus," said Sirius. "Let's go down to the kitchen." Julia felt rather excluded, but on his way out of the room, Sirius turned back to her. "Coming?"

She was disproportionately cheered. "I suppose you'll want me to keep out of the way. It would be nice to see other people though, even if it's just for a little while. Why don't I make something to sustain you during your meeting?"

Sirius looked suspicious, but Remus seemed pleased. "I think that's an excellent idea, Jules. I'm sure everyone will appreciate it."

"I'll see what I can do," she said. "It will be so nice to have company. I wonder where Padfoot is?"

Remus's eyes widened. "What—"

Sirius butted in. "He's around somewhere. Catching rats I expect." Julia glared at him.

.

Remus and Sirius sat at the far end of the vast kitchen table and began an involved conversation in low, urgent voices. Julia busied herself at the range. An unexpected crash and an annoyed profanity came from the direction of the front door. Remus and Sirius looked at each other. Sirius rolled his eyes and Remus pulled a face. "Tonks!" they said together and paused. They only had to wait a few seconds before the familiar strident tones of Sirius's mother began to howl. Sirius and Remus headed out to the hall and Julia listened with interest. Despite Sirius's annoyed efforts, the screeching continued.

"Julia!" he shouted. She ignored him.

"Julia, for Merlin's sake!" he yelled impatiently.

Without hurry, she wiped her hands and made her way into the hall. "You called?" she said, with a pleasant smile.

"Just shut the bloody thing up will you!" he said.

She looked at him and tutted. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

"What?" he said.

"The magic word?"

"Magic word? For fuck's _sake!_ _Please_ Julia, will you deal with my mother!"

"But of course," she said stepping towards the portrait of Walburga Black. The portrait's jaundiced gaze swivelled towards her and it silenced immediately. It didn't even wait for the curtains to be closed. They swished smartly shut by themselves.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Ah, thanks," he said, the word sounding unfamiliar on his lips.

"My pleasure," she said.

Remus was grinning broadly and the young woman who had just arrived was looking stunned. "Sorry," she kept saying, as she put the great ugly umbrella stand back where it belonged. "So sorry. What just happened?"

"Tonks," said Remus, "this is Julia who is staying here for a while and won't let Sirius's mother get the upper hand. She likes to be called Jules. Jules, meet Nymphadora Tonks."

"Wotcher, Jules, just call me Tonks, please!"

"I don't blame you," said Julia with feeling. "It is a bit of a mouthful isn't it? I love what you've done with your hair." The two women smiled at each other.

The four of them went back into the kitchen, now fragrant with the sweet smell of baking. Julia took the cake tin out of the oven, prodding the top experimentally.

"Let me help!" said Tonks enthusiastically, jumping to her feet and knocking the chair over.

"It's fine, really," said Julia, alarmed. "They're done now. Maybe you could find a couple of plates to put them on?"

Tonks looked down the table towards Remus and Sirius. "Whatever are they doing?"

Julia looked, and frowned in bafflement. "They're arm wrestling."

"Arm wrestling?"

"A friendly competitive trial of physical strength. Usually restricted to adolescent Muggle schoolboys." She marked the flapjacks into slices and turned them out on to a plate while she considered arm wrestling. Sirius had been just shy of his twenty second birthday when he had been sentenced without trial, to an indefinite sentence in Azkaban. _Hardly more than a boy,_ she thought with a shock, as a wave of compassion caught her by surprise.

Tonks was fascinated. "I wonder who'll win?"

Julia looked over at the two men. "Remus, I should think," she said. "He wants to impress you. Sirius doesn't really care."

Tonks' cheeks went slightly pink.

.

Tonks was soon followed by a number of other people; some arriving by the door and others through the drawing room fireplace. They congregated around the enormous kitchen table.

Remus looked expectantly at Sirius, who clearly had no intention of conforming to any social niceties. He shrugged. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Julia who is staying here while she does a job for Dumbledore. Julia, meet some of the members of the Order of the Phoenix." He began the introductions. "Alastor Moody".

Julia felt Moody's gaze as his hideous blue rotating eye fixed on her and looked directly at him. "What you see is what you get, Mr Moody. Muggle through and through."

"So I see," he said, and nodded approvingly.

"Mundungus Fletcher," continued Remus

"Ah yes, Mr Fletcher." Julia beamed at him. "We have met before. I recall a little local difficulty involving a jinxed watch at Petticoat Lane a few months ago?"

Mundungus looked shifty.

"Kingsley you already know, I think?"

"Delighted to see you again, Julia." Kingsley shook her hand. "I hope you are making some progress?" Thankfully he didn't seem to need an answer.

"And Molly and Arthur, of course, need no introduction."

They both smiled at her and Molly said with a sidelong glance at Sirius, "I hope you are getting on all right here?"

"I'm managing," Julia said. "I'm having to make allowances, of course."

Arthur gave her a conspiratorial wink.

She put two plates on the table, one at each end. "Flapjacks", she said. "Still a bit warm I'm afraid." She flicked Sirius across the back of his hand with a tea towel as he was reaching for a third piece. "Don't try your silly magic tricks on me," she said, and moved the plate further away.

Tonks hooted in delight. "Sirius, you've met your match at last!"

"Fuck off, Nymphadora," he said, shooting a sticky crumb at her. She caught it in her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

Julia felt inexplicably jealous of the easy familiarity between the two of them. It was so different from the relentless, awkward bickering between herself and Sirius. "I'll leave you to it now," she said. "I hope you have a productive meeting."

.

She went looking for Padfoot, but couldn't find him anywhere. On the second floor at the front of the house, she thought she heard a movement in one of the rooms and called his name. There was an unearthly shriek and something heavy crashed against the other side of the door. She jumped back in shock and decided not to investigate further. She would find out what was in that room, but perhaps not just now.

Instead, she took her increasingly dog-eared manuscript back into the drawing room and started comparing it against the tapestry on the wall, making occasional notes and amendments. She became quite absorbed and wondered if it would be worthwhile going back to the Ministry to check some of the information. _Or perhaps Sirius would help,_ she thought doubtfully.

.

Some hours later, all the Order except Remus had left and Julia went back to the kitchen. Remus was alone; Sirius had done his usual disappearing act.

She made both of them a drink and sat down at the table. "Remus, you've got a terrible rip in your jacket. Can't you mend it?"

"Ah," Remus made a face. "It's something I never mastered very well, I'm afraid."

"Here, let me do it for you the old-fashioned Muggle way."

He looked surprised. "Are you sure? I don't like to put you to any trouble."

"It will be my pleasure, truly."

Julia went up to her room and found her sewing kit; one of several useful things she always kept in the recesses of her bag. When she returned, she pulled a chair up to the stove and beckoned him over. "Come and sit by the fire while I do it. It can be very lonely here and it's lovely to have a civilised adult conversation."

"Does Sirius not -?"

"Oh," she shook her head. "Mostly we exchange ever more inventive insults. We haven't progressed to mature grown-up conversation. I'm trying really hard, Remus, you know. Dumbledore said Sirius would be able to help me but – I don't know . . . I can't reach him. He doesn't trust me. I don't think it will work." She cheered up. "But I have to say that Padfoot is another story altogether. I think I'd have given up by now if it wasn't for him, he's such a sweetie! Do you know he comes and sleeps with me every night?"

Remus choked and almost spilled his drink. He stared at her, open mouthed. "A _sweetie?_ Come again?"

"Is that really so strange?" asked Julia, confused.

"Well," Remus scratched his head. "I suppose I don't actually know, now I come to think about it. But perhaps you shouldn't be too hard on Sirius. He's too hard on himself. He needs to give himself a break. He's too ready to shoulder the burden of guilt that really isn't his."

Julia busied herself with her needle and thread. "Remus, why can't Sirius leave the house? I mean, not at all?

"The Dementors," said Remus, simply. "They came very close to giving him the Kiss when he was recaptured at Hogwarts, you know, and it seems to have given them some sort of . . . connection to him. As soon as he leaves the protection of magical wards they can detect his, what – life-force? - if you like. And in addition they seem to know that he is in London. I think Lucius Malfoy might have had a hand in that. They are restless and they are hungry – and they are close."

Julia shivered in sympathy. "I see. He must feel as if he has exchanged one prison for another." She hesitated, then asked, "Remus, can you - can you tell me what happened back when – you know-? I read what was in the papers and Sirius has never denied a word of it. But Dumbledore told me to trust him - and I do. I know here," she said, patting herself below her ribcage, "he is a good man."

Remus sighed. "Yes you should know. It will help you understand why he is so troubled. How much do you know much of the first Wizarding War?"

She bit her lip. "More than you would think, probably," she said, "considering I'm a Muggle."

Remus narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Julia," he said what is your surname?"

She told him. He let his breath out in a low whistle. "Does Sirius know?"

"No he doesn't. He's never asked and I'd prefer you not to tell him if you don't mind."

"Probably best," said Remus. "He's got a lot to deal with at the moment. You know that when _You-Know-Who_ killed James and Lily and tried to kill Harry, everyone, including me, believed that Sirius had betrayed them by passing on the secret of their whereabouts?"

She nodded.

"He hadn't done that, of course, but he had made our friend Peter Pettigrew the secret-keeper instead. He thought that _You-Know-Who_ would be less likely to suspect Peter of having the secret. But none of us knew Peter had already switched his allegiance. So although Sirius wasn't directly responsible, he holds himself to blame. He did what he did for the best of reasons but it resulted in the death of his best friend and he can't forgive himself for that. It sent him mad for a while."

"What a horrible mess," she said. "They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Poor Sirius. Poor James and Lily and Harry and you and everyone."

.

Sirius came into the kitchen. When he saw the two of them sitting companionably by the fire talking, his expression became sour.

"Sirius", said Julia "what are you keeping in the room on the second floor? I could hear something making a terrible noise up there and it sounded as if the door was being smashed up."

"Never you mind!" snapped Sirius. "It's no business of yours, keep your nose out!" Julia was stung.

"Steady on, Sirius," said Remus. "She was only asking a question."

"Asking bloody questions is all she ever bloody well does!"

Julia felt the sharpness of unexpected tears. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Ah, it seems my short interlude of civilised conversation is at an end. I'll leave you to it."

Remus stood up. "I won't be here in the morning, Julia. I've enjoyed meeting you. Take care of yourself - and of him." He looked pointedly at Sirius who scowled.

"Him? Julia sniffed disdainfully. "He doesn't need me to take care of him. You only have to look around to see what a good job he makes of it himself. I hope we meet again, Remus. I have enjoyed our evening."

"I hope so too," he smiled. "Good luck."

Impulsively she gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and left the room, leaving Sirius looking satisfyingly annoyed behind her.

.

Julia awoke very early next morning and realised with disappointment that Padfoot had not come to her during the night. She took a shallow, tepid and entirely unsatisfactory bath, and went back to her room damply dressed only in a very shabby old silk wrap she had found in a drawer and which smelled slightly of moth balls. She found Sirius waiting outside her door. He was particularly dishevelled and smelled strongly of drink.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste and said sarcastically, "What do you want, Sirius? I assume you have not risen bright and early this fine morning, but rather that you have been up all night drinking and this is just a sad continuation of your night's debauchery?" She didn't wait for an answer and pushed past him into the bedroom. He followed her in. "I take it Remus has gone?"

His voice was harsh. "Keep away from Remus. I'm warning you."

"I beg your pardon? You're _what?_" For a moment Julia was speechless with indignation, but then a boiling fury bubbled up from her gut. "What the hell, Sirius Black, gives you the right to talk to me like that? My private life is none of your business and neither is Remus's!" Goaded, she gave Sirius a sharp poke in the chest.

He caught hold of her hand and swung her round against the wall. "Don't ever do that again!" he growled. "You fucking bitch!"

"You arrogant pig!" She caught hold of the front of his shirt and twisted her hand into it, pulling him towards her. The back of her hand was against the hot sweaty skin of his neck and she could feel his chest heaving. They were very close; so close that his whiskers tickled her face, his breath hot and moist. Julia's stared into Sirius's stormy eyes and saw herself reflected there.

"Go on then, Sirius," she whispered. "Be a man. I dare you."

He sucked in a sharp breath and lowered his head. For a fraction of a second he paused, his lips barely touching her, his breath hot on her face. Then he pressed his mouth hard to hers. His tongue pushed insistently between her lips. She felt him in her mouth; felt his need to be inside her in any way he could. He was drinking her like a man dying of thirst might drink water. When they broke apart several seconds later, they were both gasping for air.

"Sirius," she whispered, "please -" She twisted her hands into his long hair and pulled his head down to her again, taking his lip between her teeth, exploring the wet heat of his mouth. _So this,_ she thought, _is what Sirius tastes like. Wine. And desperation_.

She could feel the press of his erection, insistent against her belly. Impatient, she tugged his shirt free, snapping buttons off in her eagerness, needing to feel his skin against her. She slid her hands over his fevered flesh, the ridges of his ribs, the tight flexing of his muscles; felt the frantic hammering of his heart, the fall and rise of his chest.

He ripped away her robe, cupping her breasts, biting her neck and her collarbone; his teeth sharp and his tongue hot on her skin, his hand searching lower. The fragile silk of Julia's robe was in tatters; his jeans the only thing between them. Trembling with lust and clumsy with haste, she fumbled with the fastening, until, impatient, he pushed her hand aside and took over. Greedily she cupped the hot, hard, heaviness of him. His hand found the sensitive flesh between her legs and his fingers slipped easily into her wet body. Her back arched involuntarily and she nearly wept with desire.

They spilled into an awkward tangle of limbs and loose clothing on the sagging bed, splitting the rotten fabric of the mattress which spewed gouts of dusty feathers into the air.

Urgently, she guided him into her. There was a brief moment of burning tightness, and then he was moving inside her, hard and out of control, his breathing harsh, laboured and fast. The loose bolts of the old bed rattled loudly in protest. The iron bedstead slid on the threadbare rug and bashed against the wall, gouging dints in the soft plaster.

Then Julia was falling, crying out over the edge of sense and Sirius was shaking and sobbing into her shoulder.

When he had stilled, she put her hand to his face and stroked his cheek. It was wet. "Sirius?" she said, curious.

"Bloody hell," he groaned. "Oh bloody hell."

"Sirius, what -?"

For a second he looked at her, his expression lost and empty. Then, averting his gaze, he withdrew, pulled up his jeans, tucked himself in, and left without saying another word.

.

Tears of humiliation and hurt burned Julia's eyes. The morning light seeped through the fly-blown window blinking on the pale down that turned and drifted in the air and settled silently on the floor.

She straightened herself up, picking damp curls of feathers from her mouth and feeling sticky, raw, and ashamed.

.


	8. Portraits in the Attic

**Chapter Eight: Portraits in the Attic**

* * *

Julia saw no sign of either Sirius or Padfoot again that day and spent the hours aimlessly drifting between her bedroom and the kitchen, drinking cup after cup of tea and engaging in wretched self-reflection. She felt used and stupid, but nagging at the back of her mind was also the knowledge that she hadn't come prepared for anything like this and had therefore not made the slightest effort to protect herself from any consequences.

That night she slept badly, tossing and turning miserably in the sagging bed; and next day there was still no sign of either of the other occupants of the house. Unhappily, she had to conclude that they were avoiding her. Sirius, yes, she understood that. But Padfoot, too? It was illogical, but she felt betrayed by his absence.

In need of something to do, she put her torch in her pocket and wandered morosely up into the top floors of the house. She climbed into a dark narrow stairwell, guessing she was headed for the attics. At the top she found a low door which protested loudly as she entered, and brushing cobwebs away from her face, switched on her torch.

There was the expected jumble of dusty, discarded furniture, boxes, trunks and pictures; some of the occupants blinking sleepily in the unexpected light. A dilapidated cupboard rattled ominously at her side. In no mood to ignore it, she gave it a bad-tempered kick. The rattling stopped abruptly and the tingling she felt at the base of her skull eased. She stopped and listened. Below the squeaks and rustles of small rodents and the ticking of wasps and beetles, she could feel the lifeblood of magic running in this house. In the bones of its walls and floors; in the arteries of its beams and rafters.

She did not know what she was hoping to find and nothing seemed obviously out of place that she could see by the yellow light of her torch. Cautiously she opened a few drawers and boxes but found nothing more than old clothes and piles of yellowed newspapers. Idly, she pulled a tattered cloth off a stack of paintings and studied the top one. It was a rather poorly executed Victorian portrait of a slightly snout-nosed house-elf, and there were some short lines of text painted on it. She dusted the canvas with her sleeve and read it.

_'In generations' service held, With chains of magic strong and cold, The servants children born to serve, This glorious house of power holds.' _

_That is really quite dreadful, _she thought. As miserable as she was, she still could recognise bad poetry when she saw it. She pulled the picture forward to see what was underneath. It was another house-elf portrait, but rather older. There was something of a family resemblance to the first picture and again there were some lines of text painted on the canvas.

_'A loyalty beyond compare, In secret bonds subservient, This ancient noble house of Black, To serve in all existence spent.'_

_Definitely a theme developing_, she thought. An amorphous idea beginning to form in the back of her mind, she looked at another. This one looked even earlier.

_'The pact of bonds forged deep and cold, In loyal long servility, For ancient secrets held in trust, The double-headed serpent sees_.'

Urgently she started to pull other paintings out from the stack. It looked as if there was a chronological record of the family house-elves recorded here. It put her in mind of the revolting shrivelled heads mounted along the stairs. She squatted down with her chin on her hands and thought hard. She needed to speak to Sirius.

With renewed determination she headed downstairs again. Noisily she stomped from floor to floor, yelling, "Sirius! Where are you? I need to talk to you! _Sirius!_" with every intention of annoying him enough to make an appearance - even if it was only to tell her to shut up.

Eventually he appeared at a second floor door looking grumpy and scruffy and reeking of alcohol fumes. She stood before him with her hands on her hips. He did not meet her gaze.

She sighed. "I've just realised something, I need to talk to you. But can we clear the air first. Sirius, please!" Now he did look at her. She was shocked by the lifelessness in his eyes. "Oh Sirius-", she stepped towards him but he recoiled.

She felt as if she had been struck; her throat constricted. "Fine," she said tightly. "That's clear enough then." His face was closed. "Oh this is stupid!" She pushed past him into the foetid room, wrinkling her nose. "Bloody Hell, this is revolting. It's like the worst sort of doss house." She picked up a half-empty bottle and sniffed at it suspiciously. "Firewhisky! For goodness' sake, Sirius!"

"Give that to me!" he demanded.

"No," she said "not a chance."

"Bloody well give it to me!" he shouted, lunging unsteadily at her.

She sidestepped him. "No, Sirius, over my dead body!"

"That sounds like a bloody good idea!" he muttered furiously. He grabbed again for the bottle and this time Julia overbalanced and fell against the bedpost cracking her wrist painfully in the same place it had been hurt before. She cried out in pain and shock, and Sirius looked horrified and ashamed. "Damnation! Here, let me-" he reached for her arm but Julia twisted away, tears of pain and anger stinging her eyes.

"You're nothing but a miserable bully, Sirius! A sad, pathetic excuse for a man! Does it make you feel better to pick on someone smaller and weaker than you? I thought better of you, but it seems I was wrong." She knelt, nursing her wrist and looked at him. "You'll be no use to Professor Dumbledore or the Order or anyone else if you're dead because your liver's exploded. You need to clean up your act."

He clenched his fist and punched the wall so hard it left an indentation specked with blood in the plaster.

Julia was shocked. "Sirius! Stop!"

His eyes were like slivers of ice. Viciously he sent the half-empty bottle crashing into the messy fireplace where it shattered, sending a spray of mixed soot, firewhisky and shards of glass flying in all directions. Then he sank to his knees, his head bowed, and groaned, "What a mess! Merlin, what a fucking mess!"

Julia could only agree. Shaken, she moved to kneel beside him, but she did not touch him; she did not dare. The light was such that one side of his face was illuminated in the sunlight but the other side was deep in shadow. She felt that he was in danger of being consumed by the darkness within him. His misery enveloped him like a cloak. He looked defeated.

"Sirius, you can't go on like this." She stood up and looked unhappily down at him. "Have I done this? I'm sorry. I was stupid. I didn't know." Unable to think of anything useful to say or do, she sighed, and left the room.

.

Despondently, she packed her rucksack. On an impulse she went to the library and looked at the map. _Should I_? she wondered. It was probably priceless; would Sirius think she had stolen it? She hated the thought of that. _But will he even notice?_ _Probably not,_ she thought, and decided to take it with her.

She went down to the kitchen. She left the dog food and remnants of cake where they would easily be found and wrote a short note. "_I have borrowed the map,_" it said. _"I'm sorry I didn't ask first but I will see it is returned. J._"

_Well_, she thought_, I can't do much more than that. _And she left the house, resisting the urge to look back.

.


	9. Lines in the Landscape

**Chapter Nine: Lines in the Landscape.**

.

Julia's little flat was stuffy and a damp dishcloth she had left in the sink was starting to smell. She opened her balcony door and leaned on the rail looking out over the playing field below. What would happen now? It was a week since she had met Professor Dumbledore and she was no nearer to solving the mystery of Wulfric Black's sinister legacy. In fact, she had to admit, she had probably managed to ruin any chance of solving the problem. Her head ached and her mind was messy and unfocused. She took a sleeping pill and went to bed, allowing herself to slip into a shameful mire of despondency, which lasted for the next two days. She was no longer convinced that her impulsive decision to leave the house on Grimmauld Place had been the right one. And she knew that however hard she tried to persuade herself she had left to spare Sirius's feelings, she had in fact run away to spare herself the rejection in his eyes; afraid of the unexpectedly powerful feelings she had for this difficult, complex, angry man. She had not said goodbye to Padfoot either, and she missed him dreadfully.

And so for two days she refused to think about the task she should be working on. But in the anxious, wakeful, early hours of the third day, she lay in bed fretting, and knew she had let everybody down. Professor Dumbledore and herself, and probably Sirius too. She remembered the patronising advice she had given him; _'This isn't about what either you or I care to do though, is it? This thing is bigger than either of us,'_ and she grew hot with shame. Then she remembered the feel of his skin and the smell and taste of him, and felt a different sort of heat.

She started to worry. The terrible lost emptiness she had seen in his eyes haunted her. His state of mind was so fragile she was afraid of what he might do.

.

As soon as she could, she made her way to the Ministry and to Arthur's office. "Julia, what a surprise!" He looked around a little furtively. "Come on in. I'm glad to see you, but I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Julia thought her heart had stopped beating. "Oh God, Arthur! It's not Sirius?"

Arthur looked bewildered. "Sirius? Why on earth should there be anything wrong with Sirius? No, I'm afraid it's closer to home than that. Here, have a drink". He waved his wand and a cup of tea appeared in front of her. She took a polite sip. Arthur tried, bless him but somehow there was always something not quite right about his tea.

"What's up?" she said.

Arthur looked miserable. "It's this awful anti-Muggle feeling. All these blasted changes in the management. I'm afraid all Muggles who work at the Ministry – and there aren't many, I promise you - are to have their employment terminated."

"Ah." Julia found she was not surprised.

"I've told them you're on leave, and they won't give you your marching orders until you return, so try not to be noticed on your way out; it will buy you a bit of time. But that isn't why you came is it? How can I help?"

Julia felt a bit embarrassed, but ploughed on. "Arthur, no-one can overhear can they?"

"Just a moment. _Muffliato_". He waved his wand and the air became oddly thick and quiet.

"You know I've been at headquarters with Sirius."

He nodded.

"Well we had - oh lord - we had something of a . . . falling out, and I left. And now I'm not sure I should have done. Arthur," she said urgently, "he was in a terrible state. Horribly depressed and drinking far too much. I couldn't handle it any more, but frankly I'm worried he might - you know - do something. Do you think you could ask someone, Remus maybe? To just check he's all right? I'd never forgive myself if, well, anything - happened."

"Try not to worry, Julia," Arthur said. "I know Sirius can be difficult."

"That's an understatement," she said.

"Quite so," he agreed, "but he survived twelve years in Azkaban. He's made of strong stuff. Don't underestimate his resilience."

"Thank you, Arthur," she said with relief. "That's what I needed to hear. I'll make myself scarce now. Take care of yourself, won't you, and give my love to Molly."

"I will," he said warmly. "Good luck."

Julia felt much better, and went home with a rejuvenated sense of purpose.

.

Nervously, she switched on her computer. It was a recent acquisition and she was still rather frightened of it. She had an abiding, if irrational, fear that she would one day press the wrong button and accidentally delete the internet or start a war. But she thought that now might be a good opportunity to put into practice what she had spent several evening classes learning about spreadsheets and databases. So for several hours, much interspersed with frustrated cursing, she entered every bit of information she had collected. It was getting late by the time she was satisfied and named and saved the files on to the hard drive.

Weighting the corners of Sirius's map with heavy books, she spread it out on the table and studied it. As far as she could tell, it was accurate; the main streets, bridges and rivers seemed to be in the right places, but there were many features she did not recognise at all. She rummaged through a bookcase to find a modern map of the city and as her table was too small to take both, laid it out on the floor.

The maps confirmed her theory that the collapsing car park was on the site of the ancient abbey, but that did not help very much. She needed to know if there was another way into the underground crypt. Switching on a powerful angle-poise lamp, she got a magnifying glass and looked closer. There were lines marked she hadn't noticed before. They were faint and faded and she wasn't at all sure what they were telling her, but there was definitely a meandering line which ran between the Court and the Abbey.

She compared the maps in order to work out what was now on the site of Black Court. It was a road. Discouraged, she looked at the other features on the map, noticing that there was a railway station nearby. A site visit was called for. Maybe there would be something that wasn't shown on the map. She knew it was a long shot, but being otherwise devoid of ideas, she decided to try.

Sleep eluded her and early next day she ventured forth wearing a sturdy pair of walking shoes. Taking the bus for the first couple of miles, she decided to go the rest of the way on foot. She had visited the site a couple of weeks before and found it still surrounded by high sectional steel site fencing which she peered through. Quite a lot of other people were inquisitively doing the same.

A familiar figure was lurking at the other side. _Mundungus Fletcher? What's he doing here? _She did not think he had seen her but when she looked again, he had gone. Then, as she had hoped, she saw someone she knew. "Hey, Tim!" she called.

A man in a hard hat and high-vis vest turned at her shout and came to the fence. "Jules? Good to see you! What are you doing here?"

"Just curious. You know I've been working on the documentary records of the site?"

"No, I didn't know that. We've been told it may be the foundations of an old Abbey destroyed in the fire? Strange how no-one seems to have known about it."

"Isn't it just?" she replied wryly. "Do you think you could get me in to take a look?"

"Sorry, Jules, not a chance. The damn thing is caving in; more of it is gone every day. No-one can get in at the moment. We've had to get shit-hot security." He gestured to a bored looking security guard who was sporting a very large, bad-tempered-looking German Shepherd.

"Not to worry." said Julia, "Thanks anyway, Tim. I'll leave you to it. Take care." She waved farewell.

She bought a tired-looking sandwich from a corner shop and found a bench to sit on. It was scratched and gouged with years of graffiti and idle vandalism. She tried to imagine what the place must have been like three or four hundred years ago. There was nothing left above ground from that time. Even the churches had been built afterwards. _Malfais did his work very thoroughly,_ she thought.

After her lunch she took the underground to the station nearest to where she thought Black Court would have been and rode the escalator up to street level thinking hard.

She walked and walked, criss-crossing the area she thought would have been the site of the Court. Nothing looked out of place and although she tried as hard as she could to use the 'magic radar' that made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck when she was near it, felt nothing out of the ordinary. As the afternoon rush hour began to swell she decided to give up for the day and go home. As the daylight faded, she sat on her balcony eating a family size bag of crisps and calculating how long was left before the archaeologists would start their dig. Her lack of progress was both depressing and frightening. She needed to make a breakthrough – and soon.

.

The following day, she waited until the morning rush hour had died down, and headed back to where she had left off the previous day. A minor railway station with an arched Victorian façade beckoned her inside, and without any sort of plan in mind she wandered on to the platform and walked towards the end. The back of her neck began to prickle.

_It's here!_ she thought. _It's got to be!_

She walked along the platform and the sensation began to fade. She turned round and walked back, confused. _Where is it coming from?_ Then she saw a door._ Why didn't I see it before? _

It was slightly incongruous. All the other the doors were large Victorian ones or modern doors which had been put into older openings, but this one was noticeably smaller. All the others were painted, but this one was bare timber darkened by age and sporting big rusty blacksmith-made hinges.

Julia hailed a man in railway uniform who was nearby.

"Sorry to bother you," she said. "I wonder if you could tell me what's behind this door?"

"Door?" He looked where she was indicating. "Well blow me!" he said in astonishment. "I declare I ain't never seen that door afore. Twenny year I been working here and I never noticed it!" He pulled off his peaked cap and scratched his head.

The door had no handle or obvious means of opening it, just a shallow circular recess. He pushed at it. It was solidly shut. "I'll go and ask my mate," he said. "See if he knows". He walked away down the platform.

He did not return, and after five minutes Julia went in search of him and found him directing an elderly gentleman to the lift. When he was free again, Julia approached him. "Did you find out?" she asked.

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. "Find out about what, Darlin'?"

"Ah, the door?"

"Sorry, Sweet'eart. I ain't got a clue what you're on about. Is there anything else I can 'elp you with?"

"Er, no, I don't think so," said Julia, thoughtfully. "Sorry to have bothered you."

She went back to the door. She could feel the static undercurrent of magic and rubbed at her tingling neck. She knew the door was there but had to concentrate to see it. Her eyes wanted to skip over it, not rest on it. There was some sort of charm at work here and whatever it was, she knew she was on the right track.

The recess she had noticed earlier had two additional areas carved out at each side, so that the shape was roughly circular but with what looked for all the world like a little ear at each side. She wondered if it was meant to have some sort of handle or key inserted. Above it, carved into the blackened timber were two runes. Although she knew well enough what they said, she took a notebook and pencil from her bag and copied them, also drawing. to the best of her ability, the shape of the recess. For some reason she was sure it was important.

.

Back at home later on, she ate an unsatisfactory and unbalanced meal without really tasting it, while her mind raced. As she absent-mindedly washed her plate, the doorbell rang. She was astonished to find Professor Dumbledore on her doorstep.

"Albus! Please come in." She cleared a space on her untidy sofa and made some tea.

She put the cups down on the table beside the map and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Albus. I've let everyone down and I'm ashamed of myself. But I'm ready to do whatever I can now. If you'll give me another chance, I won't let you down again, I promise".

"I have seen Sirius," said Dumbledore. "He told me something of what happened between you, although not, I think, all."

"Oh?" Julia apprehensively waited for more.

"He knows he behaved badly and he regrets it, but I believe it has brought him to his senses somewhat." Albus looked at her shrewdly. "Sirius would not say what happened between you two to spark such a reaction?"

She was embarrassed and looked away. "I don't want to tell you. I'm ashamed. It wasn't planned; it just happened. We both lost control. But he wasn't ready, was he? And I didn't know."

"Julia, don't take all the responsibility for this on your own shoulders," said Albus. "Sirius is responsible for his own actions, and I should have told you more before I sent you to Grimmauld Place. I thought – wrongly - that you would do better with no preconceptions, but I misjudged the situation. My own life has so much lacked such things that in my arrogance and inexperience, I failed to recognise the inevitability of what would happen when I placed a lonely man and a lonely woman together in such close proximity."

"I'm not lonely!" said Julia indignantly. But somehow her words did not ring true, even to herself.

"Azkaban brutalises and destroys," said Dumbledore. "For a clever and sensitive young man such as Sirius was to survive such an experience, the inner beast must gain ascendancy. Do you understand when I say that Sirius had to become more beast than man to survive?"

Julia was puzzled. "To be honest, Albus, I don't really know what you mean."

He sighed. "I suspected as much. This is something Sirius must explain to you himself, when he is ready. Julia, will you go back to Grimmauld Place?"

.

.


	10. The White Goddess

**Chapter Ten: The White Goddess**

* * *

.

Julia spent most of the following day mentally preparing for her return to Sirius's house, and while she still had the opportunity to use a reliable oven she made a chocolate cake and a quiche as a peace-offering. It was uncomfortable, but she could not deny to herself that the urge to see Sirius again was a stronger pull than anything else.

When she returned to Grimmauld Place later in the day, she put her bag down on the floor and stood for a moment in the gloomy hall with its faint smells of damp and dog and mildew. This time, the landing was empty. The curtains at the bottom of the staircase twitched. "Don't even think about it," she said mildly, and to her satisfaction, they stilled.

Without warning, something like a hairy black tornado tore through the hall from the back of the house, barking in excitement. Skidding joyfully on the tiles, it almost knocked her off her feet.

"Padfoot!" she exclaimed in delight. "Sweetie, at least you're glad to see me!" The dog licked her face and every other bit of bare skin he could find, his tail wagging so furiously it looked as if it might fly off. Julia fell to her knees, hugging the huge dog and burying her face in his coat. She kissed his nose. "I wonder if Sirius will be so pleased to see me? I suppose I'd better go and find him. How is he, Padfoot?"

The dog barked, then raced up the stairs before her, and disappeared.

"Padfoot! Where are you going?" Julia climbed up after him and wandered from room to room looking for him or Sirius, feeling almost glad to be back in the gloomy house, but apprehensive about the reception she would get.

Sirius appeared on the landing above, and leaned over the banister, his arms stretched elegantly along the rail. She stopped on the stairs and looked up, relieved to see that he looked very much better than the last time she had seen him. He was clean and properly, if unconventionally, dressed, wearing a fancy pleated dress shirt and with a silky green scarf tied, bandana-style around his neck. _There is touch of the dandy about him,_ she thought, and there was a faint ache in her chest.

He showed no sign of surprise at her reappearance.

"Sirius," she said, stating the obvious. "I've come back."

"So I see," he said with studied nonchalance. But there was a warmth in his eyes that belied the off-handedness of his words, and she felt inexplicably happy. He came downstairs to her. The animal fluidity of the way he moved struck her again, and she experienced a sharp and unwelcome pang of desire.

"I owe you an apology," she said.

He looked surprised. "Oh, why?" he asked.

"I had a visit from Professor Dumbledore."

"Ah," said Sirius, fiddling with a button. "Me too."

"I didn't understand," said Julia. "I thought I knew, but I really didn't, what they put you through in Azkaban."

He became very still and fixed his gaze somewhere over her shoulder.

"You are a strong man, Sirius, and a good one too. Don't let them destroy you now." She touched his arm tentatively. "Look at me, Sirius! I won't go away just because you don't look at me."

He did look at her then, his eyes shadowed and unreadable.

"You need to meet someone," he said at last. "Come with me." He took her hand and led her upstairs, towards the front of the second floor. Outside the room from which she had previously heard crashing noises, he stopped, opening the door. A very strong farmyard smell emanated from inside. "Come on in. I want you to meet Buckbeak."

Julia's breath caught. "Oh, Sirius!" she clutched his arm and for once he did not pull away. "A hippogriff!" She stood still in wonder. "Oh I never, ever thought -" She moved forward a little, but kept a respectable distance from the animal.

"Buckbeak", she said, "it truly is an honour to meet such a fine, handsome and heroic beast." She slowly got to her knees without breaking eye contact, and waited, trying not to shake but half-expecting a sudden lunge and sharp beak at her throat. After several seconds, Buckbeak bent his forelegs and bowed before her. She heaved a sigh of relief.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "That was a brave thing to do," he said. "They're not predictable animals."

"You'd have rescued me if anything went wrong," she said simply. "I know you would." She did not take her eyes from his and after a second, his gaze slid away from hers.

.

"So this is where Hagrid's errant hippogriff went," she said a little later, rubbing Buckbeak gently between his eyes and feeding him bits of digestive biscuit. "Cornelius Fudge was incandescent with rage, you know. You should have seen him, it was very funny! People were a bit scared because you had escaped, but lots of us were rather glad about Buckbeak. I think most people thought the Ministry had overreacted, and Lucius's obnoxious brat had brought his injuries on himself."

Sirius watched her hands as she fed the hippogriff. "I haven't been completely idle while you were gone." he said. "Come to the drawing room." He pulled her to her feet and she followed him down to the first floor again. He led her over to the tapestry.

she reached out and gingerly touched it with the tips of her fingers. The silk felt soft and fragile. "You have been busy! This looks different. What have you done?"

"I cleaned it."

She looked at him, amazed. "Is there no end to your talents?"

Sirius gave her a baleful look. "You want to be careful you don't cut yourself on that."

"On what?" she asked, confused

"Your tongue," he said tartly.

"Ouch!" She grinned at him, and he grinned back. She felt unexpectedly breathless and hot.

"I found something," he said. "You need to look at it tonight. After dark. You'll need your notebook."

"Sounds intriguing," she said. "Have you been eating properly?"

Excitement lit in his cool eyes. "You've brought food?"

.

They ate the quiche and the cake. Julia had expected it to last for a couple of days but that had been foolishly optimistic. Sirius attacked every mouthful of food as if it might be his last. She had never seen anyone eat with such a sense of urgency. Was it prison that had done that to him? _But his hunger_, she thought, _is for more than food._

Yawning, she pulled a chair up in front of the stove and closed her eyes for a moment, feeling pleasantly drowsy.

.

She was woken by an insistent tickling on her face. Irritated, she brushed it away.

"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," Sirius said, laughing at her efforts. "It's dark and the moon's up. Come with me."

They went upstairs to the drawing room where a pale light flooded through the high, arched windows. The air left Julia's lungs in astonishment. "My God, Sirius!" she gasped.

Where the cold light of the moon brushed the tapestry, a whole pattern was revealed in an area near the top; lines of text written in runes and all framed within the image of twin snakes, each with its tail in the mouth of the other.

"I can't understand it," he said, "so I'm quite glad you came back."

She squinted up at it. "My bloody eyesight isn't good enough. Damn it, I should get glasses. I need to get up there and look. Let me go and get the ladder from the library."

"Don't be daft," he said. "I'll get it for you." He waved his wand. "_Accio, Steps!"_

"Oh, thanks!" she said surprised. "Gosh, sometimes I wish I could do magic."

Impatient to see the tapestry, she scrambled up on to the shaky ladder.

"Julia, for goodness sake be careful!"

"Oh don't fuss, Sirius." Suddenly a wave of vertigo hit her. She grabbed the rail and the dilapidated steps wobbled violently.

"Julia! Merlin's beard, you silly woman!" Sirius caught her and steadied her. In his arms, with her cheek rested against the solid protective strength of his chest, Julia didn't want to move, but after a few seconds, she began to feel a bit foolish.

"I'm fine, Sirius. I just felt dizzy, that's all."

He looked at her doubtfully. "You look tired."

"I haven't been sleeping well. Why are you being nice to me?" she asked. "You're not yourself."

"Maybe I am myself," he said. His eyes darkened. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

The air felt too heavy to breathe properly. She was aware of every inch of him against her and the arousal she felt swelling against her middle.

Everything was still and cool in the moonlight. She looked up into his silver eyes and he bent his head to her. His mouth moved against hers in a kiss of the most perfect sweetness, his tongue hesitant and delicate between her lips. For precious seconds she tasted him again. Then she did what might have been the hardest thing she had ever done. She pulled away.

"Sirius," she whispered, "no. I can't go through that again. It's not the right time." Swiftly, she brushed her finger over his mouth. In his eyes she thought she saw almost unbearable sadness and loneliness before his expression closed.

He sucked in a deep breath. "You're right."

She climbed back on to the ladder. "Don't hover, Sirius. You're like an old woman."

"I'll bloody hover if I want," he muttered. "Just hurry up, will you."

.

As she lay wakeful and restless late in the night, she heard the great dog come padding to her room and scratch at the door. She got out of bed and opened it. Padfoot looked at her, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

"Want some company?" she said, stroking his head. "Come on, dog, I know I do." She climbed back into bed and he flopped down beside her. She put her arms around him and buried her face in his coat. "What have I done, Padfoot?" she whispered. "How can I have been so bloody stupid? Oh, but it hurts it really does!" She pulled his head to her breast. "Can you hear it, Padfoot? Can you hear my heart tearing apart?"

The dog whined softly in sympathy.

"Thank you for coming, Sweetie," she said. "I thought you'd abandoned me." He licked her face, and comforted, at last she fell asleep.

Deep in her slumber, she dreamed that Sirius was there with her; lean, naked, silent, and hot.

"You're a dream," she murmured, as she arched towards him, melting and wet as his hands discovered her secret places, his mouth damp on her breasts.

As he lifted himself over her and entered her, deep and smooth, his whisper was so quiet it could have been her imagination. "I hurt, Julia."

"I know you do, my love." Hot tears ran into her hair but even in her dream she did not know if those tears were for herself or for him.

And afterwards, she felt his touch, light and cautious, stroking her back, her shoulder, her hip.

.

Later, she hugged the soft, hairy body of the dog beside her, but in the morning she was alone.

.


	11. Secrets of the Servants

**Chapter Eleven: Secrets of the Servants**

* * *

.

Next afternoon found Julia once again sitting on the drawing room floor, transcribing the text she had copied from the tapestry. Now she could make out some of the faint shapes, but she would never have seen them on her own. _It is truly a marvellous thing_, she thought.

She had not seen Sirius that morning; she had eaten breakfast and lunch on her own although she had been pleased and a little touched to find a fire already lit in the stove when she got up. He came into the room an hour or so later and squatted on his haunches beside her. "How are you getting on?"

"I've translated the text from the tapestry. It was mostly pretty straightforward except for one thing. Here." She showed him her notes. "These two runes at the top, you must recognise those."

He nodded. "Hm, 'Noble', and 'Great House', that's fairly self-explanatory. And then the one for 'Black'."

Julia nodded. "Then it says, 'The blood will remember the son behind the son but the touch of unclean flesh will mean destruction.' And there's this word. It's phonetic and spells out, _'Viha?'_ I don't know what that means."

He pursed his lips. "I don't recognise it," he said. "Let me think on it."

"I need to run some things by you," she said. "Talk them through. Ask you some more questions." She looked at him. "If you can stand it." He met her gaze calmly. "The day I left -" she said, and paused. She did not want to remember that day. Nor did she want to remind Sirius of it. "I found something in the attic. A stack of paintings of house elves, do you know them?"

"Rings a bell," he said. "As I recall they used to hang downstairs but were too dreadful even for my mother."

"The house-elves," she said. "It's hard for me to get my head round this. It makes me uncomfortable."

"You're not on your own," he said. "Hermione is quite militant about it."

"Bright girl," said Julia. "Maybe there's hope for you people yet."

"I'm ashamed to say," said Sirius, "I never thought about it. The house-elves were just . . . there, in the family, like - I don't know - some sort of family heirloom."

"That is repellent," said Julia.

He shrugged. "I suppose."

"Malfais makes a point of describing the enslavement of -" she flicked through her book. "_The servant tribes?_"

Sirius grunted.

"Well, Pepys was a wizard. I keep forgetting that. I didn't think! I assumed he was talking about an ordinary muggle servant. But he wasn't. The servant was a house-elf! Sirius, the same family of elves have been in the service of your family since – well - forever, more or less haven't they?"

He nodded slowly.

"Well, those are the servants who can tell you the way."

"Bloody hell! I can't believe I didn't see it. Kreacher! KREACHER!"

There was a _crack!_ and the elf was before them, spitting with fury.

"I don't know where you've been Kreacher," Sirius's voice was hard. "And I don't care. Tell me, what secret have you been asked to keep for this family?"

The elf began to sob and beat his head against the fireplace. "Kreacher will guard the family's secret with his life! Kreacher will never reveal the secret to Muggle Filth and Blood Traitors!" He was beginning to draw blood.

Sirius grabbed the elf firmly by one wrinkled ear. "I order you to tell me!"

Julia watched the unedifying spectacle with horror.

The elf squirmed and cackled, "Ah thou knowest not the question! Thou knowest not!"

With a flash of realisation, Julia said, "We do know the question."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "Do we?"

"We do know," she repeated. Comprehension dawned on his face.

The elf looked at her with loathing. "The dirty Muggle shall not speak to Kreacher! Kreacher shall not answer!" He spat a gob of sticky mucus at her feet. She jumped back in disgust.

Furious, Sirius raised his hand to strike the elf but Julia, horrified, cried, "Sirius no! Just ask him!"

Sirius's jaw set into a grim line. "Kreacher," he grated between clenched teeth, "what is the way to the place of bones?"

The elf gave an earsplitting howl. Both Sirius and Julia clapped their hands over their ears, and released, Kreacher began to batter himself with the poker. _"The beginning of the way liest beneath the old Court. Follow the Grim well and in the House of Mithras the seventh gate will lead to the place. He whose blood carryeth the blood of the creator alone will have the power to undo what may yet be done!"_

And then with a sharp _crack!_ he was gone.

"Whew, that was traumatic!" said Julia.

"Disgusting more like," said Sirius with abhorrence, rubbing his hand on his jeans as if wiping something unpleasantly sticky. "So what did that lot mean?"

"I think I know the first part," said Julia. "I need to think it through. I need to write down what he said. Help me remember. Something about the _'House of Mithras'_, the _'Seventh Gate'_ and the _'Grim'_. That's like a big black dog isn't it? Padfoot? That hardly makes sense."

Sirius shook his head. "Doesn't mean a thing to me."

Julia scribbled in her notebook, then yawned. "Come on, let's get something to eat. I want an early night. I need to catch up on my sleep."

"Didn't you sleep last night then?" said Sirius. There was an odd tone to his voice and she looked at him suspiciously. His face was impassive but after a moment he looked embarrassed and turned away.

.

.

Julia had been deeply asleep for a several wonderful hours, when Padfoot barked and sat bolt upright on the bed, waking her with a shock.

"What?" she said groggily, followed by "Oof!" as a hundredweight of dog briefly crushed her ribcage. He shot out into the corridor.

"Padfoot!" she shouted, alarmed. She tumbled out of bed and ran to the door. She was astonished to find Sirius outside.

"Sirius! What on earth are you doing? Don't you ever sleep? Where's Padfoot?"

"Never mind that, I've remembered something. Come on!" He grabbed her hand.

"Stop, Sirius!" she said. "Let me put some clothes on first."

He looked at her _déshabillé _speculatively and his mouth curved into that devastating smile.

"Not on my account."

"You're incorrigible," she said, and went back into her room to pull on a pair of jeans and drag her hair into a messy ponytail.

He led her up to the third floor, and paused thoughtfully outside a door which had 'Sirius' written on it. Julia sensed some reluctance in him to enter, but he visibly set his shoulders and turned the knob.

"This was your bedroom?" A dog-eared poster on the wall showed a faded bikini-clad lovely drooping uncomfortably across the tank of a motorbike. Julia blew dust off a photograph in a tarnished frame and looked at it. A teenage boy of quite startling good looks glowered sulkily at her from the beneath the unfeasibly thick lashes of the very young. For a moment she didn't recognise him; and then she realised.

"Oh Sirius, this is you!" Her eyes smarted. "You were so beautiful." She touched the photograph gently, looked up at his ravaged face and whispered, "What have they done to you?"

He looked uncomfortable, and she pulled herself together. "Well, I assumed that it was being in prison that had made you bad-tempered, but now I see it's congenital."

He smirked. The tension broken, Sirius went to a corner of the room and retrieved an object from a table, brushing a cloud of dust and cobwebs off it. It was a globe of sorts, but unlike anything Julia had seen before.

"This is what I came for," he said. "It's a moon globe. Very old. It has been passed down to the first born Black sons for hundreds of years. It was made by some Italian wizard. I forget his name."

Julia looked at it closely, examining it. She had never made much of a study of astronomy but she had a vague idea of the geography of the moon. "Sirius, as far as I can tell, this seems very accurate. It's unbelievable! Wizard or not, how did he know all this, so long ago?"

He grunted disinterestedly. "This is what we want." He opened a narrow drawer in the base of the stand. Julia had not even noticed it was there.

"I haven't seen this for years. I'd forgotten about it. No one else can open it," he said. "Only the son of Black. Which is me, obviously. It's got a blood memory."

Inside the drawer nested what looked like a metal ring, black with tarnish, about six inches across. He took it and held it out to Julia. She saw that the ring was formed of two snakes, each with the tail of the other held in its mouth. With some reluctance she took it from him. "It's a torc!" she said in astonishment. "This is ancient. It looks Saxon! It must be priceless!"

Sirius shrugged. "It's Goblin silver," he said. "I bow to your superior knowledge on the rest of it. The blasted house is full of stuff like this, in case you hadn't noticed."

She wondered at the privilege that had surrounded Sirius for his whole life, that he attached so little importance to such things. Everywhere she went in this house she saw evidence of ancient and immense wealth and power. She felt the oppressive weight of the generations of expectation that sat upon his shoulders, and shivered. "Come on," she said. "There's nothing we can do now. You might be happy to stay up all night, but I need some sleep. We'll make a plan in the morning."

.

* * *

.

Over toast and marmalade, with the torc on the table between them, she told Sirius about the door she had found on the platform at the station and how, although it wasn't invisible, no one seemed to quite see it. "A misdirection charm?"

Sirius nodded. "Like in 'Star Wars' when Obi-Wan says to the Stormtroopers, _'These aren't the 'droids you're looking for._'"

Julia dropped her toast. It landed upside down on the floor. Automatically, she picked it up. "You've seen 'Star Wars'?"

He looked at her with pity. "Julia, I was eighteen in nineteen seventy-seven. Of _course_ I've seen 'Star Wars'. Do you think I lived under a rock?"

She had no answer, due to the fact that she had assumed something of the sort. She sighed. She was never going to get a handle on this man. "Look," she said, showing him her notebook. "This is what I drew. There are those two runes again, and there is a recess in the door this shape."

"Oh. That's . . ." he said.

"Yes," she said. "It's the same shape as the torc. Looks about the same size too. I think it's a key of some sort."

Sirius picked it up. "It's not enchanted," he said. "I don't think so anyway. What do you think?" He gave it to her.

"No," she said, "there are no spells on this. That's a good thing, I suppose."

"So if that is a key and it will open the door, the next question is, what's behind it?"

.

She laid the map out at the other end of the table and beckoned Sirius over to look. With a finger she traced the faint line which meandered somewhat, but linked Black Court and St Wergrim's Abbey. "I'm not entirely sure what this is, but I'm guessing - hoping - it's an underground passage between the two buildings and it's my guess that the door I found leads to the entrance that used to be under Black Court."

Sirius peered at the map. "If that's a passage, then are all these other lines passages, too? There are dozens. It seems a bit unlikely."

She sighed. "I know it does, but it's the only idea I've got. That door is definitely enchanted, and with those runes on, it's got to be connected somehow."

Sirius leaned back in his chair in that peculiarly canine way he had. "This is all very well Julia, but how are we going to do this?"

She looked at him blankly. Her heart sank. "Bloody hell. I've been so involved in working out the puzzles I haven't even considered how to actually get the thing." She swallowed. "I'll have to do it won't I? There's no one else."

"Don't be stupid. There's no way you can do this on your own. Merlin knows what will be down there, or what obstacles there will be. I'll have to come with you."

"Well if you think _I'm_ stupid," she said, cross with herself more than with him, "what do you call that? It would be suicidal idiocy for you to go! The Dementors are running out of control and they want you. The moment you leave the house, they'll know where you are."

He looked speculative. "Why don't you take Padfoot? You know he's not an - _ordinary_ dog. He'll understand what you need him to do."

"Padfoot? I wonder? But will you be all right here on your own?"

He appeared taken aback by her question. "Why on earth shouldn't I be?"

"Well, you know . . . Padfoot's company for you, I suppose. And this is such a depressing house . . ." She tailed off.

"Why are you worried about that?"

"Well for goodness' sake, Sirius! I don't like to think of you rattling around this horrid place on your own. For crying out loud, I care about you! God knows I wish I didn't, and you don't deserve it, but I do. So there."

"Oh." Sirius looked bewildered.

Julia glared at him. "You are such an idiot!" she snapped. "Go and find your dog!"

.


	12. The Seventh Gate

**Chapter Twelve: The Seventh Gate**

* * *

.

Julia spent much of the rest of the day in her usual spot on the drawing room floor, looking at the tapestry but thinking mostly about other things. She had not seen Padfoot and had to trust Sirius's assurance that the dog would cooperate.

After an uninspiring dinner of bread and cheese, they sat at the kitchen table. Sirius had a febrile air of barely suppressed excitement which made Julia suspicious and uneasy.

"We need to work this out carefully," she said. "We'll have to go to my flat first, so that I can get all the stuff we might need. I hope it's not going to be a pot-holing expedition, but still - best to be prepared. Padfoot is so huge and unusual he can't help but be noticed, and taking him in a cab or on the bus or tube will draw far too much attention, so we'll have to walk. It should take about an hour from here, and I think we need to be leaving very early - just as it's getting light - so that we get to my place before most people are going to work."

Sirius nodded in agreement and stood up. "Whatever you do, Julia, remember to call Padfoot, 'Snuffles' when you're outside."

"I will," she said. "I'll see you in the morning."

She got up and as she passed him, he surprised her by cupping his hand against her cheek. Instinctively, she turned her face into it, feeling the hard skin on his palm rough against her skin. Before she could speak, he had gone.

.

Padfoot was so restless that after an hour of him thrashing about on her bed, she shooed him out of her room. But even alone, she was unable to sleep properly and rose as soon as the sky began to lighten. She went into the kitchen knowing she should try and eat something, but her stomach was doing somersaults. It felt like all the hardest exams she had ever taken rolled into one ,and she wanted it to be over - although she did not altogether know what 'over' would mean. She made some tea and forced herself to drink half a cup. Sirius failed to make an appearance, and the cup she had poured for him sat neglected on the table until it had gone cold and she tipped it away. At last she collected herself and made a move.

Now that they seemed to have reached something of an understanding she had hoped Sirius would come to say goodbye. But Padfoot was in the hall alone. She waited as long as she dared, and even searched the second floor. But there was no sign of him, and the house was vast with many hiding places. It made her ache in that place between her lungs and stomach. She wanted to tell him not to hide from her; tell him that tenderness was not the same as weakness.

.

* * *

.

The door of number twelve, Grimmauld Place clunked decisively shut behind them. "Remember Snuffles, don't pull." The makeshift collar and lead had been hastily cobbled together with bits and pieces Julia had found in the scullery, and were attached only by a thin thread so that Padfoot could free himself if circumstances demanded. The sun was just breaking through and a light mist hung above the ground. Soon it would be gone, sucked into the warm sun.

"It's going to be a glorious day," she said. "It's so good to be away from that awful house. It saps your energy. No wonder Sirius is going crazy stuck in there."

She took the lead off for a little while as they walked through a park. Padfoot scampered and gambolled like a puppy, chasing birds and empty crisp packets and rummaging in abandoned takeaway wrappers. An old woman feeding the pigeons, her belongings piled before her in an old shopping trolley, shooed him away crossly when he sent the birds flapping skywards, but Julia hadn't the heart to scold. She could see how happy he was to be away from Grimmauld Place.

When they reached the block of flats where she lived, she looked around anxiously. "Please be quiet, Snuffles, I'm not supposed to have pets, let's not draw attention."

.

Inside, she switched her computer on and left it to boot up. She emptied her rucksack out on to the floor and started sorting it out, disposing of an embarrassing amount of accumulated debris. Padfoot ate a few stale biscuit crumbs then spent some time investigating the corners and checking in the cupboards and under the furniture.

"Found anything?" she said. "Ghouls? Boggarts? Doxys?"

He looked at her reproachfully.

She rummaged under her kitchen sink, retrieved a large flashlight and checked the batteries. It had a powerful beam but she knew the batteries wouldn't last long. "I'm sure . . . " she muttered, "yes! Here we are." She pulled out an old fashioned hurricane lamp. She had bought it several years ago in case of power cuts, but it had never been used. There was a full bottle of paraffin too. "Let's hope this doesn't leak or we will be in a mess." She picked up her camera. It had a new film in it; the counter was showing '0'. On impulse she put it in her bag.

She slid a floppy disk into her computer tower and copied a number of files to it, then ejected it, put it in a plastic case and dropped it in her bag. _You never know_, she thought. _Best to be backed up. _Adding a packet of biscuits, she made a mental note to buy some bottled water and chocolate on the way.

Cross-legged, she sat on the floor and she tried to think of possible scenarios; but since she had really no idea what to expect, her mind was devoid of ideas. She put a pair of heavy, lined leather gloves in the bag and scrutinised her basic supply of tools. She did have a smallish crowbar; it would be heavy to carry, she knew, but it just might be useful if she needed to . . ._ something . . ._ she thought vaguely. And it would make a handy weapon, God forbid. _On the other hand, I might get arrested before we even get there,_ she thought, which would be a disaster. It would be quite a challenge explaining that lot away. Some rope would probably be a good idea but it wasn't something she had ever felt the need to buy, and in the end she settled for the washing line from her balcony.

"I think I'll take advantage of a fully functional shower while I can," she told Padfoot. "You'll keep your eyes open for intruders won't you?" She tickled him under his chin. After her shower she walked naked into the bedroom towelling her hair. Padfoot watched with interest. "Now we wait," she said, "until everywhere is quiet, and then we'll go to the station. It'll take a couple of hours to walk there. We'll get something to eat on the way." She switched the television on. The dog was fascinated and sat immobile in front of the flickering screen until it was time for them to move.

.

* * *

After they had been walking for an hour or so and the daylight was fading, she found a chippy down a quiet street and draped Padfoot's makeshift lead around a lamp post while she went into the shop. She returned with a meat pudding for Padfoot and fish and chips for herself. Piping hot, crisp, oily, salty and sharp with vinegar.

She sniffed deeply."Mm, there's nothing like fresh chips!" She offered one to the dog, who took it and then dropped it in shock as it burnt his mouth. "Poor fellow!" she laughed as he picked it up again and ate it, then came back for more. "I wish I could take some back to Sirius. But I suppose he would just say something nasty about it anyway." The dog licked her hand and she rubbed his chest affectionately. "He doesn't appreciate you, you know. I've never even seen you together. Anyone would think you avoided each other."

.

Dusk was falling by the time they reached the station. Julia led the way to the mysterious door at the end of the platform. She took the silver torc ring out of her pocket. "Now then, Snuffles," she said, "let's hope this will work for me, and it's not protected by any other magic, or we are in trouble."

She looked at the key and spent a little time considering how it should work before she tried it. The huge dog sat on the ground behind her keeping an attentive eye out. When Julia looked around, sure that their suspicious behaviour must be attracting notice, she was aware that although people glanced in their direction, their gazes slid away and their attention was oddly diverted.

She placed the ring into the recess, wiggling it slightly until it slotted home with a satisfying click. The head of the snake jutted out at the side like a little handle. _I wonder,_ she thought. She tried to push the snake's head clockwise but it would not move, so she tried turning it anti clockwise. Smoothly, it moved a quarter turn and settled into place. The key slid back into the door so that the head lay flat and there was a sliding noise as the door mechanism released. Gingerly, she put her hand flat on the splintery timber, and pushed. It opened into a dark void beyond, and she peered inside.

All she could see was a brick wall and a flight of steep steps leading down into the darkness. "Well, Snuffles," she said. "Only one way to go now." She took her pocket torch out of her bag and zipped some spare batteries into her inside pocket along with her cigarette lighter, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped in. Padfoot pushed past her and started down the steps ahead.

"Brave boy," she said. "You are looking after me, aren't you?" As she followed the dog, she heard the door close behind her and the fading daylight was obliterated. "Bloody Hell! How do we get out again?" Clicking the torch on, she climbed the steps back up to the door and found it sealed. She studied it by the light of the torch and ran her fingers around the frame, but could see no way of opening it from inside. "Looks like a one way ticket then," she said. "Let's just hope we can get out at the other end. Wherever that is." She filled and lit the hurricane lamp, then switched her torch off to conserve the batteries. Carrying the lamp before her, she began to descend.

At first the walls were made of brick and the steps were even and regular, but in a little while they descended into an older part. The walls changed from brick to stone and the steps became steeper, narrow and worn smooth, without the benefit of any handhold. As they went deeper, the air became colder, and the steps and walls grew at first damp and then wetter and wetter until water was dripping from above and trickling down the stone. When she shone her torch around she could see dirty brown stalactites formed on the edges of stones that jutted out from the walls.

Over and again, her feet slipped on the slimy stones. More than once she fell on to her backside, barely keeping the lamp upright. Even Padfoot's big paws slithered on the oily surface. They descended for quite a way with the direction changing periodically. so that soon Julia became disoriented and lost all sense of direction. Every step was an obstacle and she grew sluggish and weary, until in despair she sank down on her knees and succumbed to a bout of tired and self-indulgent weeping. "I can't do it!" she wailed. "What was I thinking? I've failed and now I'm going to die in this hole!"

Padfoot whined and licked her face. She hugged him tight. "Oh, Sweetie, I've brought you down into this hell-hole and now I don't know how to get you out!" The dog nudged urgently at her pocket. "What?" she put her hand inside. "Oh! Chocolate! Well, why not? Here, just a tiny bit. Chocolate is really bad for dogs." She ate a chunk and immediately felt better. "Phew!" she said. "I'm so glad Sirius didn't see that little tantrum; he wouldn't have shown any mercy." She took a deep breath. "Come on then, Padfoot, onward!"

So they proceeded with the descent, but it proved to be nearly over. In a very short time they came out into an open space. Julia took out her flashlight and shone it around in surprise. A cylindrical shaft, perhaps ten feet across, stretched away upwards as far as she could see, but just a couple of feet below, she could see water. _Some sort of well, I suppose_?

Where they had emerged, a narrow walkway followed the curve of the wall leading to another opening on the opposite side. She swallowed hard. It was barely eighteen inches wide. There were shallow handholds in the wall but they would not be much use if she lost her footing.

Without warning, a deafening rumbling and vibration shocked them both. Padfoot howled and froze with his tail between his legs and Julia held her breath, sure the shaft was about to collapse. Then the noise died away and she realised what it was. _The Underground! Of course! We can be only yards away and about at the same level too. I never understood why that station had not been included in the underground system. It seems the Black's influence was even farther reaching than I realised! _"Let's do this thing, Padfoot," she said, and they edged their way round to the other opening.

The new passage sloped upwards and a thin trickle of water ran along the middle back to the well behind them. They seemed to follow it for quite a way although it was probably just a couple of hundred yards until they came out into a larger passage. At first Julia thought they were in a sewer, but she could see that the stonework was a great deal older than the Victorian brickwork she would have expected. An archway led off into a tunnel with a deep central channel in the middle. A ledge just wide enough to walk on ran above the water level, leading them on. Julia was intrigued and longed to explore further. _I will come back for a better look, later,_ she promised herself.

There were occasional scurryings and splashes, and Padfoot became excited and began to dash off in chase. "Padfoot!" scolded Julia. "This is not the time! Concentrate on the job in hand please." Her voice echoed eerily, bouncing off the walls. The dog looked chastened.

They travelled for a long time on the narrow walkway, following the stream against the current. Every so often there were places where rivulets of water ran or poured from holes in the walls. She had lost all sense of time or distance, but had already refilled the lamp once and was beginning to feel some anxiety about being lost. The flow of water grew shallower and the tunnel narrower, until it was barely wide enough to walk through. Then, unexpectedly, they came out into a wide chamber.

By the dim light of the lamp, Julia could just make out stone pillars forming an arched canopy overhead. On one of the walls a steady stream of water flowed from the mouth of a stone serpent into a pool below. Shining her small torch down into the shallow water, she could see a number of small objects lying at the bottom, partly obscured by a layer of dark silt. She took the powerful flashlight out of her rucksack and switched it on. As she shone it around the space, an involuntary gasp of amazement escaped her.

Text was carved into the walls and there were several niches in which stood small statues. Empty sconces hung on the walls, the masonry above blackened with ancient soot. To one side of the water spout stood a large statue carved in stone. It was more or less human in form, but with a lion's mane and twin serpents twined around it from feet to shoulders.

Julia was entranced. "This is unbelievable," she whispered. "An honest to goodness Roman temple still surviving intact under the streets of London. This must be the source of one of the lost rivers. Which one I wonder?" She tried to recall the ones she had heard of. "The Walbrook? Blackditch? No - Grimwell, I think." She slapped her forehead. "The Grimwell, of course! One word, not two. We are on the right track, Padfoot. Now I'm absolutely sure."

Looking around, she counted six more openings in the walls – seven including the one they had come through - all leading in different directions. Where to now? They needed the seventh gate, but which one was that? She sat down on the low wall that surrounded the shallow pool to think. Padfoot was restless.

"Go on," she said, "go and investigate, while I think. Catch yourself a rat or something, but don't be long."

Padfoot explored the chamber with interest, but Julia was conscious that he did not once let her out of his sight.

She walked to each doorway in turn. Each one had a Latin text carved above it. She shone her torch up to look at one. TERTIVS it said. She looked at the next one. SECUNDVS.

"Oh . . . I wonder?" She walked back and looked at the one before the first she had looked at. QUARTVS. "How obvious!" she laughed. "Come on, it's this one." She let the torch beam rest above the arch for a moment. SEPTIMVS.

"The Seventh Gate. This is it, Padfoot. No doubt at all!"

.


	13. The Place of Bones

**Chapter Thirteen; The Place of Bones**

* * *

.

The passageway they found themselves in was so low that Julia had to stoop as she walked. Her neck was aching by the time they emerged behind a broad pillar and stepped out into open space.

She switched the flashlight on and shone it around. The architecture here was different. Rounded Norman arches formed the ceiling of a long chamber with walls of dressed stone. Deep recesses were set into the sides between wide columns, and among the flagstones of the floor were laid engraved brasses, green with verdigris. Debris crunched underfoot as she walked.

Curious, she went over to one of the alcoves, and shone her torch inside. The light revealed the empty stares of a multitude of grinning skulls. She gasped and stepped back in shock for a moment, then looked again. The space was lined with deep shelves and all were heaped with piles of bones. Sweeping the torch around the rest of the chamber she realised that the material she had been walking on was largely comprised of bone fragments. She shuddered. Padfoot whined unhappily, his tail tucked tightly between his legs.

"It's an ossuary," breathed Julia. "A charnel house. The Place of Bones. It must be here somewhere." She swung the flashlight about, and at the other end of the space the light picked out a different sort of structure. She walked towards it with the dog close at her heels, and shone the powerful torch beam in.

The end of the vault had been built as a semi-circular apse, and centrally positioned inside it was a distinctive marble sarcophagus. On the slab covering it was a carved image of a man lying recumbent. His hands were clasped on his chest holding what appeared to be a sort of flask or ampulla. She looked at it more closely. The statue had a proud, cruel face but she thought the features bore more than a passing resemblance to Sirius. The flat front of the coffin was inscribed with the now familiar motif of linked snakes.

She balanced the flashlight beside the carved figure, slipped her rucksack off her shoulder, put it on the floor and unfastened the crowbar she had strapped to the front. She weighed it in her hands experimentally.

The effigy was not formed from the same piece of stone as the sarcophagus cover. With difficulty, she wiggled the end of the bar under a corner of the carving until she had achieved a purchase, then managed to lever it up by a small amount and shunt it back. There was less resistance than she had anticipated and it slid on the smooth marble more easily than she expected. She worked her way along the side of the figure, gradually nudging it towards the back of the slab. As it was moved, some text which had been hidden underneath the carving was revealed. When she had shifted the effigy enough so that it lay along the back of the lid and jutted slightly over the edge, she read it. The words were different, but the sentiment was becoming tiresomely familiar.

_Be sure adventurous one that the treasure within is truly what you seek for the touch of the impure means death. Only the blood of the son will remember_. And there were the now familiar symbols that spelled _Viha._

"Nice," she muttered. "Friendly, like."

She twisted the bar under the front edge of the cover and putting all her weight behind it, heaved. The effigy slipped unexpectedly further back, unbalancing the slab, which tipped without warning. She reflexively jumped back, barely in time to avoid having her neck snapped by the edge as it flew up. It fell to the floor with an almighty crash, cracking across the middle.

"Bloody Hell! I didn't mean that to happen." She put her hands on her knees and drew several deep breaths, willing her pulse to slow. When she had calmed, she shone the torch into the sarcophagus and peered in. There was, as she expected, a skeleton inside, wrapped in the tattered shreds of a winding sheet. On the staring skull rested a circlet of dull gold set with dark stones, but Julia was not interested in that. The hands had originally been clasped on the chest but the ribcage had partially collapsed, enclosing the bony hands which grasped an object she couldn't see clearly in a skeletal cage. This was it, she was absolutely certain.

She put her gloves on. They were thick and she realised that they would interfere with her ability to feel what she was doing. She leaned over the stone rim and reached towards the object. Awkwardly, she caught hold of a rib bone but to her dismay discovered that the skeleton was considerably sturdier and more rigid than she had expected. It wouldn't budge. She pulled back to rest on the edge and bit her lip. This was going to be difficult.

Padfoot growled fiercely and barked, jumping towards her and making her loose her footing and stumble backwards.

"Padfoot, what on earth do you think you're doing?" A shower of gritty dust rained down on her and she looked up just in time to jump out of the way of a lump of falling masonry.

"Jesus, that was close!" Another piece of stone fell from an overhead arch further away. "Quick! We've got to get that thing before something falls on it!" She leaned over the side of the sarcophagus again. Stretching her arm as far as she could, she began to overbalance. A split second from disaster, somehow Padfoot managed to fasten his jaws on to the waistband of her jeans and arrest her calamitous trajectory just long enough for her to regain her balance.

Trembling with horror, she leaned on the cold marble and whimpered, holding on to the shaggy fur of Padfoot's neck like a lifeline.

Another great chunk of stone crashed close to her. She looked up and far overhead could see the yellow glow of a street light. She gasped and leaned into the case, reaching towards the object again. Padfoot nipped her arm sharply. She turned to him in shock. The dog was trembling and clearly distressed. She hugged him tightly.

"Padfoot what is it?" He pulled away from her. "Padfoot! I need you to help me now!" The dog dropped into a crouch, snarling. Julia was shaken and confused. Something very peculiar started to happen.

In the time it took Julia to fill her lungs with enough air to scream, his back arched and his dark coat grew smooth; his ears and nose diminished while the shape of his head flattened and widened. In barely more than a second the only thing that remained the same was the way the light reflected silver in his eyes.

"WHAT THE ABSOLUTE _FUCK!_" she yelled in shock. "YOU_ BASTARD!_"

"_Not now,_ Julia." He stretched over the side of the sarcophagus and with no hint of fastidiousness, punched his fist into the ribcage and wrenched the object from the grasp of the corpse. "Something to wrap it in. Quickly! There's no time!"

Masonry was falling around them faster now, and the hole in the roof was getting bigger. Dazed, she dragged a sweater from her rucksack and he wrapped the object tightly. "Your bag, hurry!" He hastily stuffed the bundle in and shoved it back at her. _"Move!"_ he shouted, dragging her out of the way just in time as a huge stone crashed on to the sarcophagus.

Then he seemed to hear something and he looked up and gasped hoarsely –"Oh fuck! No wand!" He looked terrified; his eyes were wide and dark. He cowered back against the tomb. "Julia, listen to me – _Viha!_ Tell Dumbledore! Don't forget! Get out as soon as there's a gap. Leave me here, just go!" He shrank into a foetal crouch.

Julia could hear thudding and crashing as if the place was being pulled apart; it was unbelievably fast; something was tearing the walls down. "Sirius!" she cried dropping to her knees beside him, "for crying out loud, tell me what's happening?"

There was an almost-scream; something just above the edge of hearing; not quite there. Sirius was pallid and sweating. She stared at him. He was almost insensible with terror. The dim light which filtered through the collapsing ceiling was abruptly blotted out, and the light from the flashlight dimmed significantly. A biting, menacing cold swept through the chamber.

Julia did not comprehend what was happening until suddenly, something in the corner of her vision swept down upon him, lifting him like rag doll several feet into the air and obscuring his face behind a curtain of darkness. She understood then;_ Dementors._

She did not stop to think. "No!" she screamed, grabbing the crowbar. "You shan't have him!" She swung wildly with the iron bar at the amorphous almost-shapes, the cold shifting things that brought the darkness with them and hid within it. And plunged into a dreadful sensation of icy chill.

The Dementors did not like it; perhaps it was the cold iron of the crowbar or maybe the heat of her passion. Sirius dropped like a dead weight to the ground with a horrible thud. She pulled his head into her lap, covering him with her arms. This was not wizard magic, it was something different; older and darker. But to take a soul those things needed to make physical contact with a body, and the strength of her fury and determination kept them at bay. They could not quite get past her or into her. She felt their desperate yearning for life, for hope. They were in the wrong place. On the wrong side of …_what?_

Glacial dread crept over her. Horror, hopelessness, defeat. It was insinuating into her mind, crawling under her skin. She was beaten, she knew. Finished . . .

. . . Then in the corner of her vision, where the Dementors flickered ominously at the threshold of sight, shafts of silver swept through; flashes of dancing moonlight. And behind the pale light, three figures were silhouetted. Albus Dumbledore, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mundungus Fletcher.

Dumbledore was at her side in a moment. "Julia, did you manage to get it?"

Too shocked to speak, she gestured at her rucksack.

"Well done. Eat this." He handed her a square of chocolate. She looked at it with incomprehension. "Eat it, it works, believe me." Numbly, she put it in her mouth.

"Mundungus," said Dumbledore, "the security guard, please?"

"Sure thing Prof," said Mundungus, "I'll get right on to it." He headed off, but not before pausing briefly by the tomb. Julia only half-noticed a dull yellow glint disappear rapidly beneath his robe.

Sirius lay on Julia's lap like a corpse. He was grey. So very cold, so still, she thought he was close to death. But a feeble pulse still beat in his neck.

"Julia, I have to get Sirius back to Grimmauld Place." Dumbledore looked anxious. "I have concerns about the advisability of apparating the reliquary. I believe it might destabilise the contents. I'm rather afraid the risk on this occasion is too great."

"It's all right," said Julia, dully. "I'll make my own way back. Get a cab or something."

"We must go. Kingsley, I will have to leave this mess in your capable hands."

The dark man nodded smartly. "Absolutely, Albus. I'll have this business cleared up in no time. Julia, come with me, let's get you out of here."

She stumbled after him through the rubble. Masonry was still collapsing behind them.

"Julia?" Kingsley looked anxious. "Are you hurt?"

"What? Oh, no. But I didn't know, Kingsley. I didn't know Sirius was Padfoot. How can I not have known?"

He patted her shoulder. "You've done the worst bit now. The rest will be easy."

_Will it?_ She was not so sure about that.

.


	14. Viha

**Chapter Fourteen: _'Viha'_**

* * *

.

The journey back to Grimmauld place seemed to take hours, though afterwards Julia could barely remember any of it. When she had finally found a cab driver who would take her, he had insisted on seeing her money first.

Dumbledore had brought Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts. Beyond a faint tightening of her lips when she surveyed the insalubrious surroundings, she radiated cool efficiency and had put Sirius in Julia's room; it currently being the cleanest and least derelict. Julia stood by the bed and looked at Sirius; cold, grey and motionless. "What have I done?" she murmured. "What have _you_ done? Don't die on me now Sirius. You'd better not. I want to kill you myself."

"Julia," admonished Dumbledore gently. "There is nothing you can do for Sirius at the moment. He is in the best possible hands, and Poppy is more than capable, but I expect she would like to work without distractions."

Reluctantly she followed Dumbledore into the drawing room. "Albus, how did you know we were in trouble? Mundungus?"

"Indeed. He thought you might have seen him the other day. Mundungus has been keeping an eye on the site for me. Since the unfortunate debacle concerning Harry and the Dementors he has been rather more conscientious than usual, which is just as well." Dumbledore sat down on a couch and waved Julia into the seat beside him. "I would like to see the object you retrieved from the crypt if I may."

She put her bag down on the seat between them. "You'd better unwrap it," she said. "I don't want to risk touching it accidentally."

Dumbledore lifted the package out and carefully removed the sweater Sirius had swathed it in. Julia's head and neck prickled almost painfully; she felt as if she was coming out in hives. For the first time, she saw the artefact properly. A globular metal case, lead, she thought, with a window in the front revealing an inner glass jar; cloudy, rippled and uneven with age, the top sealed with wax. Inside it, suspended in dark fluid . . . something -

"What the . . . what _is_ that thing?"

Dumbledore lifted it up and illuminated it with his wand.

"Look closely, Julia. Can you see what it is now?"

Within the shifting liquid darkness she could see –

Her stomach revolted. "It's a rat! That's vile!" She felt sourness in her throat. "Albus, Sirius said something in the crypt. I think he had just realised something. He said to tell you, '_Viha'. _It's written in the tapestry and it was on the sarcophagus as well. Neither of us knew what it meant."

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded. "I believe it is the spell the son of Black must use to destroy the relic."

"It doesn't sound like a spell? Sirius didn't recognise it as one."

"It's darker; rather exotic. From an older civilization," Dumbledore told her. "A different magic, but a powerful one. Julia, you will have to explain to Sirius that he needs to deal with this himself. I think he will know that in any case. And it needs doing soon. As soon as he is strong enough. Don't wait."

"Can't you tell him, Albus? Please?"

He shook his head. "Julia, there are many other calls on my time – especially now. I cannot wait until he wakes."

"I don't know how I can talk to him again!" She buried her face in her hands. "I didn't know! I had no idea Sirius was Padfoot. I feel so stupid. How can I not have known? I even joked about never seeing them together!"

"How could you have known if he didn't want you to?"

Julia peered through her fingers to see Albus looking at her, his bushy eyebrows raised in query. "Albus," she said. "Sirius thought he wasn't going to make it. He knew he would draw the Dementors. He was prepared to die! For this! But if he had, what would have happened to that . . . thing? If only a direct male descendant from Wulfric Black can destroy it?"

"There is another descendant, Julia," said Dumbledore. "There is a gap in the tree you made. Will you get it for me?"

She brought him her patchwork manuscript. The one with a complicated and extensive family tree worked out on it; starting at the top with Wulfric Black, and ending at the bottom with Sirius.

He traced his finger down one of the lines until it stopped close to the edge of the paper.

"I think we need another sheet on here," he said.

Julia taped a piece of paper to the side. Albus took out his quill and swiftly wrote some names and lines on the fresh sheet.

She looked at it. "But there's no connection here."

"Yes there is. You made a cardinal mistake that genealogists should never make. Do not assume that because someone never married, they didn't have any children." He pointed to a name on the chart. "Tumnus Black, here, died when he was just twenty-four. Killed in France during the thirty-two day Goblin War of 1813. But he left his fiancée pregnant."Dumbledore drew a single line with his quill. "Gloriana Potter gave birth to a son later that year, but sadly she died herself soon after. Her parents brought her son up as their own."

"Oh my lord," breathed Julia. "Harry . . . "

Dumbledore wrapped the relic up again. "Keep it safe, Julia. I think it would be ill advised to allow Kreacher to see it. Good luck."

With great care, she took it upstairs to her room and placed it in a dressing table drawer, hiding it under several articles of underwear. As she closed the drawer she glanced in the mirror and discovered how disgustingly filthy and dishevelled she was. No wonder the taxi driver had been reluctant to take her. She took herself off to the bathroom where she had a lukewarm bath and washed her hair, trying not to think about what she might be rinsing out along with the dust and grit.

She wrapped a threadbare towel around her head, and went back to her room, pleased to see a bright fire burning in the grate. Sirius was in her bed, unmoving and pale. Madam Pomfrey was still there, packing her things away. "Ah, Julia," she said briskly, "It is down to you now I'm afraid. All you can do for him physically at the moment is keep him warm. Mentally, who can say? There is no way of knowing what nightmare he is locked into inside his head."

Julia shivered.

"The cold of the Dementors goes much deeper than a normal chill," Madam Pomfrey continued. "It reaches into the soul, and Sirius has come too close too many times. It is little short of miraculous he survived this. I don't think he would be so lucky again. I have left some medicine. It will help to make him stronger if you can get him to take it when he wakes. It doesn't taste very nice and I suspect Mr Black will not be the most compliant of patients. I don't envy you this. Good luck!" She patted Julia's shoulder sympathetically as she left.

_Compliant? Not likely! And why does everyone think I need luck?_ Julia thought. She dried her hair in front of the fire and then pulling a blanket over herself, lay down on the other bed and tried to sleep but she was too aware of Sirius's closeness and the slow, laboured sound of his breathing. She got up and went over to him, pulling a chair up beside the bed.

"You had better recover very soon, Sirius," she said firmly. "Because I want to make you suffer." She watched the steady beating of the pulse in his throat; leaned over so close she was almost, but not quite, touching him. Laid her hand on his cheek, on his neck. He was still so chilled it frightened her. Even his breath felt cold against her palm. She put another blanket on the bed. The fire was still burning, but she did not know how long it would last now. She blew out the candles, pulled a blanket around herself and in the dull orange glow, did what Padfoot had done for her so many times. She lay on top of the bed beside Sirius put her arm across him and laid her head on his chest.

She woke when he started to shiver. At first it was slight, but it progressed rapidly to violent shaking. It was terrifying, and Julia didn't know what to do. So she did the only thing she could think of. She climbed right into bed with him, put her arms around his cold, naked body as tight as she could, and held him. The trembling lasted for perhaps twenty minutes although it seemed longer, and then, quite quickly, it subsided. At last he was a more normal temperature and she thought the crisis was over.

He moved slightly, and in a voice as dry and fragile as dead leaves whispered, "Not . . . dead?"

She let out a sigh of relief so deep she wondered if she had been holding her breath all night without realising. "No Sirius," she said softly. "Not yet." His eyes were still closed. He touched her hand "Gentle Julia," he whispered, "so sweet-natured and forgiving."

She fought down a tearful laugh. "Would you prefer to be alone now?"

"Ah, no. Don't leave me . . . alone . . . please."

So of course, she stayed.

Sirius began to get restless and she woke from her doze. She lit a candle and poured some of Madam Pomfrey's medicine into a glass. "Sirius," she rubbed his shoulder to wake him. "Here." She lifted his head. "Drink this, it will help."

He took a mouthful, gagged, and spat it out in disgust.

"Oh Sirius!" Julia exclaimed, snatching a cloth and dabbing at the pungent, sticky stuff. "What a bloody mess, you're worse than a baby!" It was suddenly too much for her to bear. She began to cry, wearily. "I can't stand to see you like this, Sirius. I'm begging you, please take the medicine."

He lifted his hand as if it had become incredibly heavy and touched her hair. "Give me the medicine Julia," he whispered. "Please don't cry."

After that, she could feel him growing stronger almost by the minute.

.

In the pallid early morning light she could tell he was growing uncomfortable.

"Help me up, Julia." His voice was strained. "I need to get out of bed."

"Don't be silly, Sirius, what you need to do is stay where you are."

"Julia," he said through clenched teeth. "I need to get up. I need to take a piss and if you don't help me you really will have problems."

"Oh!" she said. "Why didn't you say? I'll get a bottle or something."

Sirius sucked in a scandalised breath. "Bloody hell! You'll do no such thing! Get me up now!"

"Oh, honestly," said Julia. "You're impossible."

_"__Now!"_ he said, and threw back the covers.

"For goodness sake, if you must. Come on then," she said, offering her arm. He pulled himself up to sit on the side of the bed, swayed and nearly fell.

"Whoa!" She grabbed his shoulders. "Are you all right?" He retched, painfully. Beads of sweat sprung out on his forehead and he looked deathly pale. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No." he said swallowing. "Absolutely not." For a second Julia could see in his granite self-control, the strength of character that had carried him – almost – intact through twelve years in Azkaban.

"Are you ready?"

He stood, shakily, leaning heavily on her, and she helped him to the bathroom. Once he got moving, he steadied. "Merlin," he gasped, "I hurt in places I didn't know I had places."

"Sirius," Julia rubbed his back between his shoulder blades. "I know you still aren't strong, but Albus said we shouldn't delay in dealing with the reliquary. And . . . thank you."

"For what?"

You got the relic when I failed, even though you knew it would bring the Dementors to you. Probably, you saved the world."

"Don't be ridiculous." He looked annoyed.

"I'm not," she said, simply. "If you know anything about me by now, you know I don't flatter and I don't lie."

"Come on then," he said, taking her hand. "Let's do this thing. Its time."

"Don't you want to put some clothes on first?" she asked.

He looked down at himself as if surprised. "I will if you want," he said. "Am I driving you wild with desire?"

"No," she said. "You're too thin. Not my type at all."

.

He sat cross legged on the floor before the tapestry in the drawing room. "I think I should do it in here. Don't ask me why." He unwrapped the relic and touched the bottle. Picked it up; held it up to the daylight in front of the tall window. In the blackness, red lights moved and twisted. He cupped it in his hands, whispering; "_Viha."_

And then it was changing, moving in some way, the edges blurring. Julia gasped and started in shock.

"Julia, keep back!" Sirius said sharply.

She did not need telling again.

There, in his cupped hands was something black, viscous and foul. But it was shrinking, it was . . . being absorbed into him! _The blood will remember the son behind the son._

For a few moments, Sirius was surrounded by a kind of halo; an aura which changed from green to red to gold. And then it was gone and Julia thought it must have been her imagination.

Sirius swayed and she rushed to steady him.

"I'm so . . ." he whispered. "So tired."

Julia pulled him to his feet and supported him back to the bedroom. "So tired," he whispered again as he lay down. His eyes closed as soon as his head touched the pillow. After reassuring herself that he was warm and his pulse still beat strong and steady, she brushed a kiss across his clammy forehead and allowed herself the indulgence of shedding a few hot tears on his broad chest.

_Now what? _

Without warning, a future that had been narrow, focused, and very limited, opened up before her. And it was terrifyingly empty.

.

But there was unfinished business to deal with first.

.


	15. Unfinished Business

**Chapter Fifteen: Unfinished Business**

* * *

The rate of Sirius's recovery was phenomenal and apart from looking slightly pale and tired, he was almost back to normal by the afternoon. He was impervious to her admonitions to stay in bed and eventually she conceded defeat.

He sat on an old armchair in the kitchen with his feet up on the range.

"You'll burn your feet," she pointed out.

"D'you think I'm so stupid I won't move before that happens?" He gave her a sidelong glance. "On second thoughts, don't answer that."

She handed him a plate piled with a vast amount of cheese on toast.

"I don't need looking after, Julia, you know."

She looked at him thoughtfully, and he looked back at her until his gaze dropped. _Is that so?_ she thought. "So you're feeling better then?" she said. "Good. In that case I think we've got some talking to do."

He grimaced. "Oh, I feel really rough again, I need to rest." He began to stand up.

"Bloody well _sit down!_ You aren't going to wriggle out of this!"

"I was afraid this would happen," he complained.

"What would happen?"

He gave a heavy sigh. "You've turned into my mother."

Julia was indignant. "I'm beginning to think your mother was much put-upon! You're an unregistered animagus. _Aren't you? _That's how you survived Azkaban. _Isn't it?_ And how you escaped! Albus almost told me. I can't believe I didn't see it! Couldn't you trust me enough to tell me?" She grew hot and knew she was red with mortification. Her voice was thick and choked. "How could you, Sirius? How could you let this bloody charade go on? All the things I said to Padfoot . . . was it just a great joke to you?"

"No! Julia, it wasn't like that! It just – I couldn't . . ." his voice trailed off. He dragged his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what to say. I don't have the words for this."

"How many bloody words do you _need?_" she demanded furiously. "You only need one! How about _sorry_? But just say it lots of times!"

"Oh, Merlin," he said "You're wonderful when you're angry."

Here, Julia understood, was a consummate – although perhaps a little out of practice – master of the art of talking his way out of trouble. She was livid. "Don't think for one second you're going to worm your way out of this so easily. You, my friend, have got some serious explaining to do!"

Unexpectedly, he grinned. Julia was poleaxed.

"_Don't. Do. That,"_ she hissed.

"What?" Sirius looked confused.

"Don't _smile_ at me. It's not playing fair."

His smile broadened. "What else don't you want me to do?" he asked softly. He trailed a fingertip from her throat to the tip of a breast. Her nipple peaked at his touch, and his eyes darkened to the colour of charcoal.

She looked down at the offending part that so obviously betrayed her and looked back up at him.

"Don't make me fall in love with you, Sirius, if you don't care for me." His hand dropped to his side and he did not speak.

Fighting back humiliating tears, she said "I see. This conversation isn't going any further is it? We've done what we had to do. There is no point in me staying any longer."

Sirius was silent, but he looked troubled.

"Well," she said with an effort. "I'll go and get my things together."

.

While she was forlornly packing her clothes away she heard the great dog padding in the corridor outside. He scratched at the door. Julia sighed and opened it. "What are you playing at now? This is ridiculous." The dog pushed his nose into her hand. Without thinking, she buried her hands in the shaggy fur of his neck, scratching gently. Insistently he shoved his head at her, whining. A little light of hope sparked in her heart. She knelt in front of him, took his head in her hands and looked into his eyes. "Sirius?" she whispered. "Oh, Sirius." And then it was his face she held.

He rested his forehead against hers. "You can't go, Julia."

"Why ever not?"

"Because – Oh Merlin! Because I don't want you to!"

"Sirius," she said pulling back so that she could see his face. "People don't always get what they want and they don't always do what is good for them. I didn't mean to fall for a bad tempered wizard with a guilt complex and poor personal hygiene. But I did it anyway." His mouth quirked.

"I could grovel?" he said optimistically.

She got to her feet. "I'm not sure it will work. But I think you should give it a try anyway."

In a single, graceful movement he stood, took her hands, pressed them to his lips and sat down on the bed in front of her.

She looked down at him. "I've been thinking," she said. "Wondering why you didn't come clean; why you let things carry on like that. I've come to the conclusion that it was for one of two reasons. Either it was a great joke to you –"

Sirius made as if to speak. She shushed him.

"But I don't think so. Sirius Black wouldn't enjoy a joke he couldn't share. After all, what would be the point of making me ridiculous if you couldn't share it with your friends? And somehow I don't think a decent bloke like Remus would have approved. So that leaves the other reason. Might it be, Sirius, that in spite of yourself -in spite of every effort you have made to be Mad, Bad Sirius - maybe you do care a bit after all?"

He pulled her closer and rested his head against her stomach.

"When I'm a dog", he said, "it's easy. Everything is black and white; there is no subtlety. Padfoot knows he loves Julia, but Sirius is suffocated by the misery of the past and fear of what the future might hold. I hurt you, and I'm sorry for it. More sorry than I can say."

She stroked his hair back from his face."Tell me something. When you take the form of a dog, the Dementors don't recognise you. I understand that. So when we were in the crypt, why didn't you just become Padfoot?"

"Well, apart from the fact that they would probably have taken you anyway-" his hands tightened on her. "I couldn't. I can change at will but it still needs focus, and the Dementors just strip that away from me. The fear is paralysing, I can't tell you."

"You don't need to," she said, "I saw for myself."

"Even if I'd had a wand it probably wouldn't have helped," he said, gloomily. "I haven't been able to make a Patronus in years." He looked up at her, hopefully. "How's it going so far?"

"Hm. So-so. You need to try a lot harder. You knew how I felt, didn't you?"

"I'm so sorry," he said. His voice was hoarse. "I thought in my stupid mind if I was hurting myself too it was somehow all right, but it wasn't was it?"

"No it wasn't. But you have to stop punishing yourself, Sirius, because you are punishing the people who love you as well."

"I'm not very loveable."

"No you aren't," she agreed, "but never mind."

"When James died," he said, "it left a gaping hole inside me. For twelve years I filled it with anger and hate and madness. Then Harry came along and he is so like James. So like . . . I think – well, somehow I thought he _was_ James for a while. But he's not; he's his own man, and it took Molly to make me see. I didn't want to be told. I didn't like it, but she was right. So the gap inside me was still there and I had grown used to it, it was so familiar; it had become part of me. And then Dumbledore sent you here; and you fell down my stairs and silenced my mother and gave me worming tablets and baked me cakes and called me an idiot . . . suddenly the hole started to fill up and it terrified me. I didn't want it to be filled. I wanted to keep the anger alive inside me, you see. But try as I might, it happened anyway. The hole filled up and now . . . Julia, don't leave me empty again."

She sat down beside him. "Such a responsibility," she murmured. "You see, you did have the words after all."

"It worked?"

"It worked."

Sirius grinned crookedly. She looked into his silver eyes seeing the years of hurting; the damage that lay behind them. "Oh Sirius," she lifted her fingers to his face and lightly traced the lines of suffering that prematurely aged him.

"I'm broken, Julia. I don't know if I can be mended."

.

He lay back on the bed and pulled her down to him. As usual, his shirt was unfastened and she pushed the fabric aside, resting her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his breathing for a while. Then she lifted herself up and looked at him. "At last, I've got you where I want you."

She leaned down, brushing his lips with hers and put the tip of her tongue between them, urging him to open for her; deepening her kiss. He rumbled deep in his throat. She could feel him growing hard against her already, and he shifted beneath her hands as she skimmed the planes of his chest and shoulders.

She trailed her tongue down his neck feeling the corded sinews, licking the salty skin and tugging gently at the coarse hairs on his chest with her teeth. She rested her hand flat for a moment against his rib cage, feeling the strong beating of his heart beneath; traced the dimpled tattoo scars, and circled the puckered nipples. Moving lower, she followed the ridges of his ribs and the flat of his belly. The top button of his jeans was already open, like a signpost leading her irresistibly on. Unhurriedly, she unfastened the rest of the buttons and he lifted his hips for her as she pulled his jeans down over his lean thighs and he kicked them away.

In no particular haste, she surveyed him with her eyes and mouth as she wriggled out of her own clothes. At last, bare skin brushed against bare skin and when she looked at his face, his eyes were closed but tears glistened on his lashes. She shimmied down the length of his body, nibbling at his hips, dipping her tongue into his navel as his hands twisted into the covers at his sides. He was hard and smooth; like steel in velvet.

He tensed and gasped, "Not this time." He pulled her up and flipped her over with as much apparent effort as it would take to rearrange a pillow, so that she lay underneath him. "My turn," he growled. Tenderly he nipped her neck with his sharp teeth. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders and he shook with excitement but his touch was soft and hesitant. He seemed to be holding himself back, but Julia wanted to feel the passion she knew was boiling inside him; wanted it all for herself. The calluses on his palm rasped on the tender skin of her breast and he stopped with a groan. "Damn! I'm too rough."

"For God's sake, Sirius!" said Julia, desperately, "I like it rough!"She raked her nails down his back and jabbed them into his backside, pulling him to her. Then she bit his shoulder. Hard.

He yelled with the sudden pain and his neck arched. "Ah Julia. Fuck me. Now!" He hooked his arm under her knee, pulling it up over his shoulder, and in a swift movement he was so deep inside her she thought he touched her soul. There was no place where one of them ended and the other began. She lifted her fingers to his wet cheek and they looked into each other's eyes. For moment he was still.

"Julia," he whispered, "this is us now. You and me." Then he began to move inside her. The last vestiges of Julia's tattered emotional defences washed away in waves of pleasure.

He panted in desperation, groaned in relief. His hands tangled in her hair; tightened; loosed again. She felt his climax building; and as he sobbed, she felt him pulsing into her, felt the liquid heat of his orgasm. She would never be able to get enough of him, she thought. She wanted to consume him; keep him inside herself, safe there forever.

.

Sirius touched her neck where it was sore. "I've marked you," he said. "Your skin is so soft. I'm not used to it. And here." He touched her breasts. She looked down at where her skin was red and scratched and wondered what he _was_ used to.

"I'll fix it for you," he said.

"No you won't. You'll leave those marks to go away naturally. I've marked you too, look." she kissed the bite on his shoulder.

"You have," he agreed. "Stay with me, Julia."

.

In her narrow bed she lay against the length of him all night; and when, in his sleep, he sobbed and thrashed about and cried out – a name, she thought – she whispered soft words to him and stroked his back and kissed him until he calmed again.

"The dreams," he said, "I didn't think. I should sleep somewhere else."

"Do you _want_ to be alone?"

"Ah, no, but"-

"You idiot," she murmured. "This is where you belong." She pulled his head to her breasts and stroked his hair until he slept again.

.

Next morning after breakfast, Sirius pulled the tatty armchair in front of the kitchen range and sat down, pulling her on to his lap.

"Now you've had your wicked way with me, madam, I think you should tell me that stuff you've been keeping to yourself."

She nodded, stood, and went over to the great dresser. She opened the drawer, found the photograph at the back, and returned to the safety of Sirius's lap. She pressed herself into his warmth and handed it to him, pointing to one of the faces that smiled out from it. For a moment he looked at it, uncomprehending.

"_Benjy?_"

"My brother," she whispered.

He pulled her close, "Ah, Julia. Jules." He rested his chin on the top of her head.

Her voice was muffled against his chest." And now it's happening again isn't it? There's going to be another war."

"I think so, yes," he said.

.

They had precious days together; days when, unspoken, they both knew they were living inside a fragile bubble of domestic happiness. Neither mentioned the future; neither mentioned the war. They wrapped their apprehension in a blanket of laughter, kisses and sighs, and refused to look at it.

When Sirius had made love to Julia several times in his old bedroom, and in the dining room, the library, the kitchen and the scullery; and Julia had refused point blank to indulge him in his mother's bedroom where he kept Buckbeak, or in front of his mother's portrait, it occurred to her that he was systematically trying to obliterate the memories the rooms held for him.

One evening in front of the fire in the drawing room as he was making a thorough survey of her breasts, she kept looking anxiously at the fireplace until he sighed in frustration.

"Whatever is the matter with you? You're not paying attention to what I'm doing. It's very distracting."

"I'm afraid someone will appear in the fire," she complained. "What if Remus comes while you're doing this?"

"I wouldn't mind," he said.

"Well, I would!"

"No, why? We could ask him to join in."

"Sirius!" she exclaimed, shocked. Then after a moment's thought said, "Really?"

But his mouth was full and he did not answer.

There were times, still, though, when his face shadowed and he became surly, silent and withdrawn, and absented himself for hours.

.

One afternoon, when Julia found Padfoot scratching mournfully at the front door and he turned his pleading eyes to her, she almost relented.

"Padfoot, sweetie," she said, "I can't! I can't take you outside, it's too dangerous. I know, I really do, how much you want to go out, but I just can't!"

She found an old comb and groomed him for hours until his coat was as smooth and dark and glossy as polished ebony.

.

In the kitchen one morning, Julia, cooking breakfast while Sirius was doing distracting things to the back of her neck with his sharp teeth, was hit full in the face by the smell of frying bacon. Overcome with sudden nausea she dashed to the bathroom.

"Julia?" Sirius knocked on the door.

"It's not locked," she groaned.

He knelt beside her, and stroked her hair back from her sweaty forehead. "Are you ill?"

She rested her chin on the cool porcelain, closed her eyes in misery and shook her head. "No, Sirius. I'm not ill. I'm pregnant."

He sat down heavily on the side of the bath. "Merlin's beard!" he hissed, raking his fingers through his hair. "Are you sure?"

"No," she said. "I'm not sure. What do you think? We haven't exactly been careful have we? I'm sorry. At least, I am, but I'm not. I'm thirty-two Sirius. I didn't think this would ever happen for me."

"Fuck," he said heavily. "Double-fuck. I can't – I thought you Muggle women were all on the pill!"

All the breath left Julia's lungs. She stared at him and wondered if the unbearable pain he had just inflicted was evident on her face. She couldn't speak. Blinded with tears, she ran out of the room.

"Oh, Merlin! _Julia!"_

She ignored him, grabbing her jacket and pausing only to roughly shove her feet into a pair of shoes and pick up her bag.

.

She ran at first and then she walked, and then she walked more, needing to be away from the pain that was Sirius. _Did he really mean that?_ Was that all she was; a handy receptacle for his inconvenient urges? Or was it just a thoughtlessly brutal knee-jerk reaction? He was complicated and troubled, she knew, but she didn't think he was a deliberately cruel man.

.

She was curious to know what had happened to the collapsed vault after they had left, so she bought a local paper. According to the report, the archaeological investigations had been suspended. The car park had not after all, been falling into the ruin of an ancient abbey but merely the remains of a Second World War bomb shelter which required no further investigations. Once underpinning works had been completed to the neighbouring properties, the car park would be resurfaced. Work was expected to be complete in three weeks or so.

Julia gave a half-hearted smile to herself, relieved. She detected the sure and subtle public-relations hand of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Darkness was falling when she returned to Grimmauld Place.

.

In the night Padfoot came to her. They were silent together, and as he lay beside her, she held him close and wept into his coat. Over and over again he licked the salty tears from her face but all night long he was Padfoot, not Sirius, and she cried herself into an exhausted sleep. In the morning, as usual, she was alone.

Miserably, she considered getting up. She thought that probably, she should start packing. A wave of nausea swept over her and she groaned.

Sirius came to her door. He gave a formal little knock and came in. He sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry," he said. "I am a complete and utter stupid arsehole. You deserve better."

"Yes," she said, "damn your eyes. You are. And a cruel one too."

He was carrying a tray with a pot of tea. On it was a perfect red rose. He gave it to her. She held it up in wonder. "Did you make this? It's a real rose, not just something that looks like a rose. That's strong magic." Her stomach heaved. "Sorry, she said, I've got to -" and dashed for the bathroom."

Sirius stroked her back and shoulders, his touch soothing and pleasant. There was healing in his fingers. He wiped her face with a damp cloth and kissed her.

"Don't do that. I'm disgusting."

"No you're not," he said, stroking her cheek. "You are even more precious to me now. Stand up."

He knelt before her, pressed his head to her belly. She felt a warmth there. "My daughter," said Sirius in relief.

"Daughter?"

"I shouldn't have a son," he said. "The line should end with me."

.

Julia thought she felt the fabric of the old house tremble and a chill crept down her spine.

.

He picked her up and carried her over to the bath which was an immense, old fashioned one perched on tarnished serpent-shaped feet, easily big enough for two. He must have been stronger than he looked, for she had never considered herself to be a skinny woman. The bath was full of steaming water and on the water floated -

"Rose petals!" She didn't know whether to laugh or cry and decided on both. "You sod," she said. "Have you any idea how long it takes to run a bath in here without magic? Half an hour, Sirius! Half an hour for six inches of tepid water with bits floating in it."

"Are you feeling better now?" he asked.

"Yes I am. The sickness has passed."

"Good," he said. "I can't hold you any longer, you're putting my back out."

"Ah! Sirius!" she yelled as he deposited her unceremoniously into the bath, and then, "Oh, this is lovely." She sank back into the water and looked up at him. "Are you going to join me?"

"I most certainly am," he said, unbuttoning his shirt.

Julia watched, fascinated. He unfastened his jeans and kicked them off. She looked him up and down proprietorially.

"Like what you see?"

"You know I do". She licked her lips. "Turn around." Obediently, he complied with her instruction. She looked at him, all elegant lines and angles, light and dark, skin and hair. "Beautiful," she sighed. "Come here. I think I need to take a closer look."

She traced the dark tattoos that crossed his body, and after a long silence, Sirius turned his gaze to the wall and in voice hardly more than a whisper, told her what they meant; told her of the things that a young man in a place like Azkaban had to do to survive. And told her how, sometimes, tenderness can be found in the most unexpected places. Then he closed his eyes and sank into the water, holding her hand tight.

Silently, inside herself, she howled in misery for the boy who had been lost. He lifted his head from the water, panting, and shook his head to clear his ears.

"They mean nothing now," Julia said. "They're just marks on your skin." She kissed each one in turn until she found his mouth and the kisses became deeper and Sirius's clever fingers found the place that drove all thought from her mind. Then he lifted her above him and lowered her on to him and filled her. And they were quite oblivious to the water which slopped over the sides of the bath. She watched his expression intently as it changed from pleasure to need to something on the edge of agony, and held his face in her hands as he came.

.

Later, he said; "Julia, I need to do something. I want to give you something."

"Give me something?" she repeated blankly.

Sirius sighed. "I need to know that if anything happens to me, you'll be all right. If I can't look after you."

"What do you think is going to happen to you?" she asked sharply.

"These are dangerous times, Julia. Unpredictable. I don't know what to do for the best. I've never . . . never had anything matter - really matter - like this before. And it frightens me. So please let me do this."

"Oh. Well, if it's that important to you, go ahead."

"Come with me," he said, taking her hand and leading her into the drawing room. He opened the door of an ornate display cabinet and took something out. It was an elaborate egg-shaped ornament; shiny black enamel chased with a heavy gold-coloured decoration of intertwined serpents. It opened to reveal another egg, which in turn opened to reveal two gold serpents each with its tail in the other's mouth.

"I want you to have this," he said. "It's hideous, I know, but I was always told it would be a valuable item to Muggles. Mundungus Fletcher has had his beady eyes on it for years."

She took it. It was surprisingly heavy.

"My grandparents had it made for them by some French friend of theirs; another dark wizard I believe. It isn't enchanted though. Put it safe, Julia and I hope you can just forget about it and never need it."

"I don't think I can take this," she said. "If it's what I think it is, it's too much. It's just – over the top!"

"Too late," he said. "I've already given it to you. You, as much as anyone, will understand that the rules governing the ownership of the things in this house are – complicated. It's not straightforward. Just put it away and forget about it. Put it where Kreacher won't filch it though, please."

Upstairs, she slipped it into a sock and tucked it into the bottom of her shabby rucksack. She had forgotten her camera was in there and took it out. Experimentally she took a few snaps in the bedroom, but she suspected the light was too dim and they wouldn't come out properly.

She went back into the drawing room and called Sirius in. "Come over here," she said, indicating the tall arched windows where the light was best. "Let me take a picture of you." He struck an unnecessarily theatrical pose. "You're such an exhibitionist." She pointed the camera at his devastating smile and clicked the shutter.

Suddenly, there was a shrill, inhuman shriek of pain from upstairs. They stared at each other.

"Buckbeak!"

They raced up the stairs. Sirius took them three at a time ahead of her and didn't notice Kreacher lurking, cackling to himself on the landing, but Julia did. She paused to look at him with suspicion. He seemed uncharacteristically happy, but when he noticed her scrutiny there was a sharp _crack!_ and he disappeared.

In the bedroom there was an overpowering smell of burning fur and flesh. Buckbeak was clearly in agony. Sirius examined the nasty burn on the hippogriff's flank. "How the hell did this happen?" he exclaimed.

"I think it was Kreacher!"

"Kreacher! He did this? The bloody elf has finally gone completely mad. I'll kill it!"

"Later, Sirius, we've got to help poor Buckbeak now."

Julia stroked the Hippogriff's beak and murmured soothing things to him while Sirius worked at repairing the damage bit by bit. It took a long time and her legs cramped and grew numb with the weight of the beast's head on her lap.

"I've done as much as I can," said Sirius, at last. "It will be all right now. Probably scar though."

"You're a good healer, Sirius. Did you ever think of doing that?"

He looked horrified. "Not me!"

"I love you," said Julia. Because, regardless of what Sirius might or might not feel for her, she needed him to know that.

Sirius bit his lip and shook his head. "I . . . Julia –"

"It's all right," she said. "Really." She heard the sound of the front door opening. "Are you expecting someone?"

He shook his head. "It must be something urgent."

There was a crash and someone swore.

"Tonks!"

The portrait of Sirius's mother started to wail.

.

Tonks looked both relieved and worried at seeing him. "We've got an emergency," she said. "Julia -"

"Yes," said Julia, "Order business, I know. I'll get out of the way. Shout if you need me." As she made her way upstairs, she could hear the sound of more arrivals. She sensed that their short-lived peace was over.

.


	16. Endings and Beginnings

**Chapter Sixteen; Endings and Beginnings**

* * *

.

Julia inspected Buckbeak's wound. It was healing well and he did not appear to be in any discomfort. She made sure there was clean water for him and swept up the smelly pellets of tiny bones and fur that littered the floor, then headed for her room. She doubted that the Order would appreciate her presence and felt self-conscious. Her relationship with Sirius was so new; was such a delicate fantasy, that she was afraid to expose it to harsh reality, illogically fearing it would disappear. But as she made her way along the gloomy landing, she realised she could hear raised voices from downstairs. Angry ones; _well, mainly Sirius's angry voice_, she thought, finding herself unsurprised, and turned back towards the kitchen to investigate.

.

Sirius was looking utterly furious; Remus was looking unhappy but determined; Tonks looked embarrassed, and Moody implacable. Kingsley was there too, impassive and observant, his arms folded. Someone else Julia didn't know was with them. A dark, thin man with a sallow complexion, lank hair and a hooked nose. He was eyeing Sirius with absolute loathing but turned to look at her as she entered, his cold black eyes hostile and suspicious. Something disgusting pushed at her mind and she recoiled. "Get out of my head!" she cried, revolted.

The dark-haired wizard stumbled in shock.

Sirius gave his harsh laugh "Oh yeah, Snivellus, don't underestimate the Muggle! Of course I'm coming with you! How can you think I would just stay here like a miserable coward while you're fighting!"

"Sirius?" She stepped to his side and touched his arm.

"Julia," said Remus, "please talk some sense into Sirius. Harry is in trouble at the Ministry. We have to go, but Sirius needs to stay here. We think it's a trap, and we need someone here to tell Dumbledore what is happening."

Julia gripped his arm tighter, willed him to look at her; willed him to be calm; to wait.

.

* * *

Sirius paced the floor angrily, shaking his head. He kicked at a chair sending it skidding across the floor. "I can't believe this. They just left me here!" He stopped and turned to face her, gripping her shoulders hard. "Julia, I can't stand this. They're in danger! Harry's in danger. I can't stay here! I've got to go. You understand don't you?" There was a vitality, an energy in his eyes she had never seen before. He was quite magnificent.

She looked steadily at him. "Oh Sirius." She brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. "If you were the sort of man who could wait behind while the people he cares for were in danger, you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with."

He pulled her tight against him and spoke over her head. "Will you help me, Julia? If I apparate from here, the Dementors will be on me before I get into the Ministry. Can you get Padfoot in?"

She was silent for several seconds. Sirius pulled away and looked at her.

"I think so," she said, resigned.

"Julia, you'll have to really trust me. I'm going to make - er - ," he looked around and picked up a spoon from the table, "this- into a portkey that will take you and Padfoot to the visitors' entrance at the Ministry."

"A portkey! Oh bloody hell, Sirius. I don't know if I can!"

Gently, he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. His grey eyes were clear and serious. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes. You know I do."

"It's the only way we can get there fast enough."

"Sirius." She touched his neck where she could see the pulse beating steady between a cluster of dark, tattooed dots. "If I asked you not to go, what would you do?"

He stilled, his face closed. "If you asked me not to go," he said, "then I wouldn't. Are you asking?"

"No, Sirius, I won't ask that of you. I'll do it. But I'm frightened. You will be careful, won't you? _Promise _me?"

.

_"Kreacher!"_ Sirius summoned the house elf who appeared before them looking as shifty as ever. "Kreacher, when Dumbledore gets here, tell him I've joined the Order at the Ministry, understand?"

The elf's insane laughter was not reassuring. It gave Julia a bad feeling. A very bad feeling.

.

"It's ready," Sirius said. "You'll have to let this happen, Julia."

"I know," she said. She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably.

"Take my wand. And please don't neutralise it!"

"I couldn't do that, could I?" she said, worried.

"Let's hope not, eh. Just don't touch it, okay?" He slid it into her bag. Effortlessly, he shivered into Padfoot and stood looking at her expectantly.

"All right," she said. "Here we go then." She held Padfoot tightly around his neck with one hand and reached for the spoon with the other.

.

When Julia had finished being humiliatingly sick into the gutter which drew rather little attention from revolted passers-by who presumably thought she was drunk, they squeezed together into the grubby phone box and Julia picked up the sticky receiver and dialled. Six-two-four-four.

"State your name, and the purpose of your visit," said a tinny voice.

"Julia Fenwick, and my pet dog Snuffles." Julia glanced down at Padfoot who looked, if it was possible, slightly indignant. "I am returning some documents on loan from the Ministry archives."

Two name badges popped out of the coin return slot at the bottom of the telephone, and she fastened one on her shirt and the other to Padfoot's improvised collar.

.

The impatient receptionist looked disapprovingly at Julia. "You're a Muggle so you won't have a wand, obviously," she said. "I don't know why you couldn't have done this at a more civilised time. Show me the documents you are returning." Julia obediently presented Malfais' book. The receptionist pursed her lips but passed it back without further comment. "We would prefer you to conclude your business as quickly as you can." she said. "We don't encourage . . . your sort . . . here, and we are rather busy at the moment."

That was something of an understatement, Julia thought, glancing around. The Ministry was in turmoil and apart from a few odd glances no-one took the slightest notice of the woman with the dog. Padfoot matched his trot to her jog as she hurried them to her cupboard-like office, . The window in her tiny room showed bright moonlight sparkling on the choppy waves. She watched as the lean and powerful dog turned, in the space of a breath, into a lean and powerful man.

He took her hand, kissed her palm, and retrieved his wand from her bag. He looked at the little sign on her desk and gave a sardonic grin. He flicked his wand at the little brass plaque and it sprang wings; it was a little yellow phoenix that flew around the room. Julia watched it in delight until the tiny bird fluttered to a stop on her hand. It solidified to a perfect little model, and looking closely at it, she could see the letters J and S intertwined on its chest. Her eyes hurt.

"I've got to find the others," he said.

"Sweetheart, be safe, come back to me. I need you."

He took her in his arms and rested his forehead against hers. Julia put her finger to the tear that trembled in the corner of his eye. "Sirius?"

"Ah Julia, our timing was rotten wasn't it? I do love you. Never forget." He kissed her, hard at first, almost desperately; then gently, tenderly. And then he was gone and just the ghost of the taste of him was on her lips.

.

For a long time Julia sat alone in her silent little cubby hole. Her window had misted to a frozen fog and she felt as if a rock had lodged itself somewhere between her stomach and her lungs. It was hard to breathe. She had a feeling this would be the last time she would come here. _Be brave,_ she said to herself. _Be worthy of him and Benjy and Albus and Remus. And don't let yourself down either_. She put Malfais' book on the desk, hitched her bag on to her shoulder, and drawing a deep breath, she ventured out into the Ministry and headed for the Atrium.

.

A wild-eyed, dark haired woman screeched with manic laughter as she emerged from the lift.

"I know you," Julia gasped. "Bellatrix Lestrange! Sirius's cousin!"

Bellatrix hardly glanced at Julia, crowing with fierce joy, "The Muggle-loving Blood-traitor's dead!"

For a moment the world stopped turning. Everything became still and quiet. The air turned to pain. _Dead? Sirius?_ A fury like nothing she had ever experienced ignited in Julia's belly. She screamed and launched herself at Bellatrix.

Laughing scornfully, Bellatrix raised her wand and pointed it towards her. Sickly green light flashed from it but Julia's fury was such that she absorbed Bellatrix's curse almost without noticing. Bellatrix's face filled with horrified astonishment.

"Oh yes, you bitch, you weren't expecting that, were you?" Julia pulled her fist back and landed Bellatrix a solid punch in the face. She felt the satisfying crunch of breaking cartilage and a spatter of blood. She drew her arm back for another go but with a sharp _pop_ Bellatrix had vanished before she connected.

A youth with wild black hair, tears streaming down his face, green eyes blazing with grief and fury behind his glasses raced down the corridor past her.

"Bellatrix!" he screamed._ "Bellatrix!"_

Bellatrix's insane laughter echoed down the corridor.

Julia became aware of the static charge she was carrying. She could feel her hair standing up on end and little blue sparks popped from the ends of her fingers. Her heart was racing uncontrollably, thudding as if it might fly from her chest. She thought she might actually be about to die. "Water", she muttered and dashed for a nearby fountain, plunged her head under the running water and felt the charge dissipate immediately.

_Sirius,_ she thought, _dead?_ No he couldn't be, he just couldn't._ Not now. Don't think about it…don't think about it…_ she concentrated on the sensation of water running down her face until it became painful. She pulled herself out and rested her head against the stone copings, her misery and fear returning and stayed there for some time.

.

Eventually, she made her way to the Atrium. A scene of complete devastation met her eyes. In disbelief she sat down on the torso of a statue that lay on the ground and surveyed the damage, hardly able to take it in.

Someone came and sat beside her, putting an arm round her. She looked up suffused with a sudden desperate hope, but it was Remus. He looked exhausted and his face was wet with tears.

"Remus, is it true? Is Sirius dead?"

"I'm sorry, Julia."

The icy rock in her middle settled against her heart. She was numb, cold. "Can I see him?"

"No, Julia. He fell behind the Veil."

She didn't know quite what he meant but understood the finality of his words. Never to touch Sirius again, even dead. No goodbye.

She remembered the first time she had seen him, leaning casually against the ancient stove in his kitchen; the last time she saw him, alive with the light of battle in his silver eyes; Sirius lost in misery; Padfoot chasing a flock of pigeons into the morning sky, Sirius laughing as she took his picture; Sirius below her, above her, inside her. Sirius dead.

A howl of grief was rising inside her bursting from her in boiling tears. "It's my fault!" she screamed. "I brought him here! He said if I asked him not to go then he wouldn't; and I didn't ask! Remus. I couldn't ask that of him! But I wish I had!"

"Julia. Remus." They both turned to see Dumbledore approaching. "Remus, I have to take Julia away now."

"Julia," said Remus, "I wish you the very best in your life. I fear we won't meet again."

"Remus – what?"

He shook his head sadly. "I wish so many things had been different. Take care, Julia." He gave her another quick hug, turned, and walked away.

"Julia," said Dumbledore, "we must get you back to Grimmauld Place now. You must not linger here. Hold tight."

There was moment of deep, suffocating nausea, the world briefly turned inside out and then they were on the step of Number Twelve, and through the door. This time Julia knew there would be no great black dog to greet her, but she couldn't help looking up the empty stairs as if she might see him, and a fresh wave of misery broke over her in terrible racking sobs. "I could have asked him to stay, Albus! I should have done, and then he would still be alive!"

Albus took hold of her shoulders firmly. "Julia, think about this. If Sirius had stayed here with you, then yes, he would still be alive now. But there is a very high probability that one or more members of the Order – even one of the children - would have died. How do you think he would have taken that?"

She bowed her head. "He would have hated me for it," she whispered brokenly.

"I believe in the course of time he would," said Dumbledore. "He was too fragile. And he understood, as I know you do, that the world at stake here is greater than any person. Julia, you must be brave. Braver, perhaps, than you have ever been. We cannot stay here. With Sirius dead, the safety of our headquarters may be compromised. You need to pack your things and be quick about it. But first, did Sirius give you anything from the house?"

"Oh. Yes, he did"

"Ah," Dumbledores' voice was approving. "He sometimes had sense; he was just too headstrong. Julia, will you get it for me?"

"But it's mine! He gave it to me!"

"I know he did, and it is indeed yours. Don't worry. I don't want to keep it, but there is something I need to do."

She retrieved the egg from the bottom of her rucksack, pulled the sock off it and handed it over to Dumbledore. He folded it into his robes. "You will have it again soon enough, my dear. In a few days you will find it in a desk in the old cottage in Staffordshire you have unexpectedly inherited from your great uncle, and will be travelling to on the train within the next hour." He handed her a railway ticket.

Not understanding, she looked at it. "But I don't understand, I -" she looked at Dumbledore, and the first glimmer of comprehension came to her. He had an expression of great compassion on his face.

"_No!_ Albus, please! Not my memories! Not my memories of Sirius! _Please!" _

"Your knowledge puts you in grave danger now. Both of you."

"Oh . . . how did you . . . ?"

"I know many things Julia; some I would rather I didn't. Voldemort will want to know why Bellatrix's curse didn't work on you; you should be dead. If he found you, Julia, your ability to absorb and neutralise magic energy would very soon be overwhelmed. You wouldn't stand a chance."

"Will I see you again?"

He looked sad. "I fear not, Julia. The war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters will be long, hard fought and bitter. He will take many casualties. But remember, Julia; only the living grieve. The dead feel no pain."

He lifted his wand and she bowed her head before it.

.

* * *

.

Julia shook her head to clear a momentary dizziness in the first light of a new day. She realised her cheeks were wet with tears. _How strange,_ she thought, aware of a faint wash of some odd, deep but unexplained grief. _It must be pregnancy causing the dizziness and peculiar mood swings._ Glancing up the quiet street, she checked her pocket to make sure she had her train ticket and felt something small, hard and sharp. She took it out. Her little phoenix; how could she have forgotten? She had had it so long she couldn't recall how she had come by it, but it was very special to her. She hitched her rucksack up on to her shoulders and set off briskly for the station, nervous but excited about the new life that was waiting for her.

* * *

.

It caused quite a stir in the antiques world some months later, when an incredibly rare and valuable previously unrecorded Faberge egg surfaced in a Staffordshire village. Found, it was said by a woman clearing out the cottage she had recently inherited from a distant relative she had never even known.

After long and complicated appraisals by experts from all over the world, it was declared genuine, and a very fine work by the French artist. It sold for an undisclosed but vast amount to a private collector who preferred to remain anonymous.

_Single mother, Julia Fenwick, 33,_ reported the papers; _said she was very happy to be able to provide a comfortable and secure future for her daughter from the proceeds of the sale, and would always be grateful to her great uncle Reginald Black. She was very sorry she had never met him._

_._

* * *

**EPILOGUE;**

Several years later Julia and her daughter were sorting through some old boxes.

"Whatever's this thing, Mum?" Julia's daughter was holding a flat, square plastic object with a metal disc in the middle.

"Oh! It's an old fashioned floppy disk," said Julia, looking at it in surprise. "I haven't seen one of those in years. Not much call for them anymore. I've no idea what's on it. Not much point keeping it, really."

"There's an old camera here too, Mum. It's still got a film in it. Why don't we get it developed?"

.

In the age of digital photography there were still a few places where you could get this done, but when the envelope came back it contained just one recognisable picture; of a laughing, handsome, bearded man.

"Who's this, Mum?"

"Oh!" Julia seemed uncharacteristically confused and rubbed the back of her neck which was prickling oddly. "That's your father. I hardly knew him really. He died. Well . . . I think so anyway." Unconsciously, she touched the little metal phoenix she carried, always.

Julia's daughter knew better than to ask more questions then. She was patient. She could wait.

"He looks nice. He looks happy, I think?"

Julia looked at the photograph; looked into Sirius's laughing grey eyes. '"Yes," she agreed, "yes, he does, doesn't he?"

**.**

* * *

**.**

**Sirius Black; 1959-1996**

**.**

* * *

**_._**

**_PROLOGUE/BEGINNINGS_**

**_._**

_In that time before time began, there were five elements; Fire, Water, Air, Earth and Magic. It was the time when the spirits of the Seasons walked in flesh, and the stars and planets blew prophecy on the wind and cast their shadows on the lives of men. _

_This was the time of Deep Magic, the immovable laws remembered only faintly now in the distant universal tales of the willing sacrifice that would save all mankind; the journey of the several companions; the quest for that which is lost; of death and rebirth._

_And in that time the Veil was real; a physical entity; the bridge between the worlds of the living and the dead. To return from the other side of the veil meant to leave the soul behind and walk the world of men as a wraith; helplessly seeking always the souls of the living._

_And then there was equilibrium of a sort. But human nature being what it is, despised all things being equal; required some to be more equal than others._

_And so the old religion was forced into the shadows. The Wild Hunt, the Green Man, the spirits of the ancient wells and springs, the guardians of roads and bridges, the Watchers of the Gates; all became ephemeral; like mist, like smoke. Pushed to the periphery, hid deep in the greenwood forests of Merrie England. _

_And the Magic Ones took the Veil and made a place for it, deep below the ground at the confluence of hidden rivers._

_And then there were powerful families who grew. Houses strong in pride, arrogance and power, building their strength and dominion upon the weakness of others. _

_And so it came to pass that one particular man; a wizard of moderate powers but of great hubris and ambition, proud and ruthless; took the long journey to the East and brought back to the land of his children that which came to be known as the Black Death…_

_._

* * *

**Author's Note**: I**f you've read this far, thank you! It was a bit sad at the end, wasn't it? But a little bit happy too, maybe. **

**My story "The Secret Life of a Black Dog' tells this same story from Sirius's point of view, and y****ou might also like to look at the short story 'Talking to Dad' and the sequel 'Finding the Way Home'.**

**.**

_**Please consider taking the time to leave a review!**_

_**.**_


End file.
